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LEISURE -DAY  RHYMES. 


BY 


JOHN"    GODFKEY    SAXE. 


BOSTON: 
JAMES  R.   OSGOOD   AND   COMPANY, 

LATE  TICKNOR  &  FIELDS,  AND  FIELDS,  OSGOOD,  &  Co. 

1875. 


COPYKIGHT,   1875. 

BY  JAMES  R.  OSGOOD  &  CO. 


UNIVERSITY  PRESS:  WELCH,  BIGELOW,  &  Co., 

CAMBRIDGE. 


TO 

|\ftj)  (Soob  JT  runt), 
FREDERICK  LOCKER,  ESQ., 

THE  MOST  ACCOMPLISHED   OF  LIVING  WRITERS 
OF 

VERS  DE    SOCIETEf, 

2Tfjts  Book 

OF 

LEISURE-DAY    RHYMES 

IS  VERY  CORDIALLY  INSCRIBED. 

J.  G.  S. 

28  First  Place,  Brooklyn,  N.  Y. 


M189019 


CONTENTS. 


LEISURE-DAY    EHYMES. 

PAGE 

CHORUS  OF  THE  DRYADS 11 

HERE  AND  HEREAFTER 16 

MY  BOOKS .20 

ESSE   QUAM   VlDERI 23 

THE  DEAD  LETTER         .......  26 

To  A  CITY  COUSIN  ABOUT  TO  BE  MARRIED       .        .  29 

How  TO  Woo  AND  WIN 32 

PARTING  WORDS 35 

MISERERE  DOMINE 38 

THE  DUKE'S  STRATAGEM 41 

TEMPORA  MUTANTUR 44 

A  CHARMING  WOMAN 47 

"JUSTINE,  YOU  LOVE  ME  NOT!" 50 

"BE  GOOD  TO  YOURSELF" 53 

To  A  BACHELOR  FRIEND  IN  THE  COUNTRY    ...  55 

LOVE  AND  MONEY 58 

ODE 61 

PART  OF  AN  AFTER-DINNER  SPEECH.        ...  64 

ODE  TO  THE  LEGISLATURE 68 

WHY  :  A  SONNET 72 

LAURA .73 


VI  CONTENTS. 

FABLES    AND    FAIRY-TALES. 

THE  TWO  ANGELS 77 

THE  GOLD-FINGERED  BRAHMIN 80 

THE  FARMER  AND  THE  MAGIC  RING     ....  84 

THE  GRUMBLING  PEASANTS        .        .        .                .  87 

THE  LITTLE  GLASS  SHOE 91 

THE  ROSE  AND  THE  FAIRY 95 

THE  TWO  SPARROWS 98 

LOVE  AND  CARE 101 

DEATH  INSURANCE          .        .        .        .        .        .        .104 

THE  CADI'S  STRATAGEM 107 

THE  KING'S  ASTROLOGER 110 

No  ADMITTANCE 113 

THE  STRAY  CAMEL 116 

THE  FIVE  KNAVES 119 

THE  AMBITIOUS  VINE 123 

THYRSIS  AND  AMARANTH 126 

A  DOUBLE  DISTRESS 129 

THE  TWO  KINGS 132 

JUPITER  AND  HIS  CHILDREN 135 

Nous  ET  Vous 138 

THE  FAIRY  AND  THE  THREE  WISHES    .        .        .        .141 

THE  RIVAL  QUEENS 145 

PROVIDENCE  IMPARTIAL 148 

THE  VANITY  OF  HUMAN  WISHES      .        .        .        .  150 

JUST  ONE  DEFECT 151 

LOVE  AND  POETRY 153 

REASON  VERSUS  CUSTOM 154 

THE  SULTAN  AND  THE  Ex- VIZIER     .        .        .        .  157 

THE  TWO  FRIENDS 159 

PERSEVERE  AND  PROSPER 161 

LAKE  SARATOGA 165 

THE  IMPARTIAL  JUDGE                       ....  167 


CONTENTS.  Vil 

THE  ELEPHANT'S  SERMON 169 

THE  CONNOISSEURS 172 

THE  ROYAL  CONCERT 175 

THE  BARNYARD  CRITICS 178 

THE  FIGHTING  COCKS 181 

THE  NIGHTINGALE  AND  THE  ORGAN  ....  184 

THE  LIZARDS 187 

FLINT  AND  STEEL 190 

THE  LACE-WEAVERS 192 

THE  SHAM  LIBRARY 195 

THE  GOAT  AND  THE  HORSE 198 

THE  TURKEY  AND  THE  CROW 201 

THE  BEE  AND  THE  CUCKOO 203 

THE  SILKWORM  AND  THE  CATERPILLAR     .        .        .  205 

THE  MONKEY-SHOWMAN 208 

THE  OIL-MERCHANT'S  Ass 211 

THE  MONKEY-TOURIST 213 


TRANSLATIONS    AND    PARAPHRASES. 

THE  ORIGIN  OF  LOVE 219 

THE  TRAVELLER  AND  THE  STATUE    ....  222 

THE  KING'S  GOBLET 225 

THE  GOLDSMITH'S  DAUGHTER 232 

THE  GOOD  DOG  OF  BRETTE 235 

THIRTEEN  AT  TABLE 238 

MY  BALD  HEAD 2-11 

GIRLS  !  PASS  ALONG  ! 243 

MUCH  LOVE 246 

THE  PUPPETS 249 

THE  PRIDE  OF  BEAUTY 252 

LITTLE  PETER  THE  PORTER        .....  255 

THE  HEN  AND  THE  HONEY-BEE 258 


Vlil  CONTENTS. 

EPIGRAMS. 

MAIDEN  MANNERS 2G1 

IN  FAVOR  OF  MAKING  NEW  FRIENDS         ...  261 

ON  A  NIGGARDLY  FELLOW 262 

ON  A  MISER 262 

ON  A  CRITIC 263 

ON  A  QUIBBLING  SUPPLICANT 263 

ON  A  COXCOMB 264 

ON  A  QUACK  DOCTOR 264 

ON  A  LITIGIOUS  MAN 264 

To  A  BORROWING  FRIEND 265 

ON  A  SUICIDE         • 265 

ON  CHEAP  PURCHASING 265 

ON  A  SPENDTHRIFT 266 

To  AN  UGLY  WOMAN  WITH  A  SWEET  VOICE     .        .  266 

THE  TRUTHFUL  PRETENDER 267 

ON  DINING  WITH  STRANGERS 267 

ON  A  RICH  MAN'S  COUNTRY-SEAT 267 

ON  A  POOR  MAN  OF  EXTRAVAGANT  HABITS  268 


LEISURE-DAY   RHYMES. 


CHORUS   OF    THE  DRYADS. 

FIRST    DRYAD. 

WHO  are  these  who  come  again 
Strolling  in  our  dark  domain  1 

SECOND    DRYAD. 

Lovers,  if  I  guess  aright  ; 
And  I  saw  them  yesternight, 
Sitting  by  yon  chestnut-tree  ; 
And  I  marvelled  much  to  see 
All  I  saw  ;  and  more  to  hear 
All  that  fell  - 

FIRST    DRYAD. 

Now,  tell  me,  dear, 

What  it  means,  —  that  wondrous  word 
Which  so  oft  I  plainly  heard 


1 2  CHORUS  OF  THE  DRYADS. 

(As,  unseen,  I  watched  above); 
Tell  me  truly  what  is  "  love,"  — 
What  of  pleasure  it  may  bring, 
Since  it  seemed  so  sweet  a  thing ; 
What  therein  may  lurk  of  pain, 
Since,  anon,  they  sighed  again ; 
What  of  shame,  that  with  a  blush 
She,  the  trembler,  whispered,  "  Hush  !  " 
(As  assailed  with  sudden  fear.) 
"  Darling  !  don't  the  Dryads  hear  1 " 

THIRD    DRYAD. 

True  as  truth !     It  chanced  that  I, 
Sleeping  on  a  branch  anigh, 
Heard  it  all ;  for  I  awoke 
When  their  words  the  silence  broke. 
Faith  !  the  lover  answered  well : 
"  Sweet !  the  Dryads  never  tell ! " 

FIRST   DRYAD. 

Pan  !  I  own  the  matter  seems 
Queer  as  aught  we  see  in  dreams ; 
Tell  me  plainly  (older  you  ; 
And  —  it  follows  —  wiser  too  !) 


CHORUS  OF  THE  DRYADS.  13 

All  about  it ;  I  would  know 
What  it  is  can  witch  them  so  ! 

THIRD   DRYAD. 

Nay,  —  I  know  not.     All  I  learn 
These  good  eyes  and  ears  discern. 
For  the  rest,  —  beyond  my  ken 
Are  the  ways  of  mortal  men  ; 
And  for  love,  —  if  it  contain 
More  of  pleasure  or  of  pain, 
All  my  wits  have  brought  about 
Only  this,  —that  still  I  doubt ! 

SECOND    DRYAD. 

Strange  the  awful  oaths  I  heard 
Following  many  a  tender  word 
That  from  either  smoothly  slips 
Through  their  seldom-severed  lips, 
In  the  little  pauses  when 
They  were  free  to  speak  again. 
Yet  I  learn  from  such  as  you, 
(Tell  me  plainly,  is  it  true  ?) 
That  whate'er  of  bliss  it  bring, 
Love  is  but  a  slippery  thing; 


14  CHOKUS  OF  THE  DRYADS. 

That,  with  mortal  men  and  maids, 
Kisses  fail  when  beauty  fades ; 
And  this  Love,  with  scarce  a  sigh, 
Dies  when  Youth  and  Pleasure  die  ! 

THIRD    DRYAD. 

Nay,  —  I  know  not.     Well  content 
With  the  good  the  gods  have  lent 
To  our  higher,  happier  kind, 
Little,  sooth !  am  I  inclined 
All  the  miseries  to  trace 
That  afflict  the  human  race. 
Safe  amid  our  leafy  bowers, 
Sweetly  flow  the  rosy  hours, 
While  in  friendship's  calm  estate, 
Free  from  love,  as  free  from  hate, 
Here  our  happy  lives  are  passed, 
Clear  of  passion  — 

FOURTH    DRYAD. 

Not  so  fast ! 

/  have  heard  the  tale,  you  see, 
Of  Pan  and  wanton  Dryope  ; 
And  hapless  Syrinx,  who,  indeed, 


CHORUS  OF  THE  DRYADS.  15 

To  'scape  his  love  became  a  reed 

Most  musical  of  tender  woe. 

Ah  !  which  of  us  can  surely  know 

That  she  is  safe  1     For  me,  I  own 

Some  homage  to  this  god  unknown 

Whose  wondrous  potency  controls 

Both  mortal  and  immortal  souls. 

His  smile  I  crave  ;  his  frown  I  fear ; 

So,  be  all  lovers  welcome  here  ! 

May  fragrant  flowers  a  carpet  spread 

Whereon  their  feet  may  softly  tread  ; 

May  every  tall,  majestic  tree, 

To  guard  their  tryst,  a  fortress  be ; 

And  every  nymph  that  views  the  scene 

Hold  in  her  hand  a  leafy  screen 

To  form  a  dense  o'erarching  roof 

The  blabbing  moon  to  keep  aloof; 

And  not  a  Dryad  ever  tell 

The  secret  that  she  knows  so  well ! 


HERE  AND   HEREAFTER. 

"  SAY,  what  shall  I  believe  1 "  my  neighbor  said 

Late  yesternight,  when  light  discourse  had  led 

To  graver  themes.     "  For  me,  I  stand  perplexed, 

While  fierce  polemics  each  upon  his  text 

Of  Scriptural  foundation  builds  his  creed, 

And  cries,  '  Lo  !  here  is  Truth  !  the  Truth  ! '    I  need 

Some  surer  way  than  theologians  teach 

In  dogmas  of  the  sects."     I  answered,  "  Each 

Must  do  his  own  believing.     As  for  me, 

My  creed  is  short  as  any  man's  may  be ; 

'T  is  written  in  '  The  Sermon  on  the  Mount,' 

And  in  the  '  Pater-Noster  ' ;  I  account 

The  words  '  Our  Father'  (had  we  lost  the  rest 

Of  that  sweet  prayer,  the  briefest  and  the  best 

In  all  the  liturgies)  of  higher  worth, 

To  ailing  souls,  than  all  the  creeds  on  earth. 


HERE  AND  HEREAFTER.  17 

A  Father  loves  his  children  —  that  I  know  — 
And  fain  would  make  them  happy.     Even  so 
Our  Heavenly  Father  —  as  we  clearly  learn 
From  his  dear  Word,  and  dimly  may  discern 
From  his  fair  Works  — •  for  us,  his  children,  weak 
To  walk  unhelped,  and  little  prone  to  seek 
In  all  our  ways  what  best  deserves  his  smile 
Of  approbation,  careth  all  the  while 
With  love  ineffable.     'T  is  little  more 
Of  his  designs  I  venture  to  explore 
Save  with  the  eye  of  Faith.     With  that  I  see 
(Aided  by  Reason's  glasses)  what  may  be 
Hereafter,  in  that  '  Coming  Kingdom '  when 
The  King  shall  justify  his  ways  with  men 
On  earth." 

"  And  what,"  my  doubting  friend  inquired, 
"  Shall  be  our  destiny  ] " 

"  No  tongue  inspired 

Hath  plainly  told  us  that.     I  cannot  tell  — 
It  is  not  given  to  know  —  ivhere  we  shall  dwell ; 
I  only  know  —  and  humbly  leave  the  rest 
To  Wisdom  Infinite  — that  what  is  best 
For  each  will  be  his  place  ;  that  we  shall  wear 
In  the  Beyond  the  character  we  bear 


18  HERE  AND  HEREAFTER. 

In  passing ;  with  what  meliorating  change 
Of  mind  and  soul,  within  the  endless  range 
Of  their  activities,  I  cannot  tell. 
I  know  '  Our  Father'  doeth  all  things  well, 
And  loves  and  changes  not." 

"  Alas  !  we  know 

The  earth  is  rife  with  unavailing  woe  !  "- 
My  friend  made  answer.     "  How  can  such  things  be  ? 
The  Father  being  perfect,  we  should  see 
His  government  the  same  —  " 

"  Would  he  not  err,  — 
The  hasty  judge,  who,  having  seen  the  stir 
In  the  first  Act  of  some  well-ordered  play, 
Should  cry,  *  Preposterous  ! '  and  "go  away 
And  criticise  the  whole  (four  Acts  unseen  !) 
As  ill-contrived,  inconsequent,  and  mean  1 " 

"  Something  germane  to  this,"  my  daughter  said, 

"In  an  old  Jewish  tale  I  lately  read  : 

To  pious  Bildad,  deeply  mourning  one 

Whom  he  had  deeply  loved,  —  his  only  son,  — 

Who  of  the  plague  had  died  that  very  day, 

Came  his  friend  Amos,  saying,  '  Tell  me,  pray, 

WThat  grief  is  this  that  bows  thy  reverend  head  1 ' 


HERE  AND  HEREAFTER.  19 

The  mourner  answered,  pointing  to  the  bed 

Whereon  was  laid  the  body  of  the  youth, 

'  Behold,  my  friend,  the  cause  !  good  cause,  in  sooth, 

For  one  to  weep,  who  sees  his  hopes  decay,  — 

The  work  of  years  all  blasted  in  a  day, 

As  there  thou  secst ! '     Amos,  answering,  said, 

*  'T  is  true,  indeed,  thine  only  son  is  dead  j 

And  as  thy  love  even  so  thy  grief  is  great ; 

But  tell  me,  friend,  doth  not  thy  faith  abate 

In  some  degree  the  sharpness  of  thy  pain  ] ' 

4  Alas  ! '  said  Bildad,  '  how  can  I  refrain 

From  these  despairing  tears,  when  thus  I  find 

My  anxious  care  to  cultivate  the  mind, 

The  wondrous  gifts  and  graces  of  my  son, 

Untimely  doomed  to  death,  is  all  undone  1 ' 

Touched  by  his  sorrow,  Amos  sat  awhile 

In  silent  thought ;  then,  with  a  beaming  smile, 

As  one  who  offers  manifest  relief, 

He  said,  '  0  Bildad  !  let  it  soothe  thy  grief, 

That  He  who  gave  the  talents  thou  hast  sought 

To  cherish,  and  by  culture  wouldst  have  wrought 

To  highest  excellence  in  this  thy  son, 

Will  surely  finish  what  thou  hast  begun  ! ' " 


MY    BOOKS. 

An  !  well  I  love  these  books  of  mine, 

That  stand  so  trimly  on  their  shelves, 
With  here  and  there  a  broken  line 

(Fat  "  quartos  "  jostling  modest  "  twelves"), 
A  curious  company,  I  own ; 

The  poorest  ranking  with  their  betters  : 
In  brief,  —  a  thing  almost  unknown,  — 

A  Pure  Democracy  of  Letters. 

A  motley  gathering  are  they,  — 

Some  fairly  worth  their  weight  in  gold ; 
Some  just  too  good  to  throw  away ; 

Some  scarcely  worth  the  place  they  hold. 
Yet  well  I  love  them,  one  and  all,  — 

These  friends  so  meek  and  unobtrusive, 
Who  never  fail  to  come  at  call, 

Nor  (if  I  scold  them)  turn  abusive  ! 


MY  BOOKS.  21 

If  I  have  favorites  here  and  there, 

And,  like  a  monarch,  pick  and  choose, 
I  never  meet  an  angry  stare 

That  this  I  take  and  that  refuse ; 
No  discords  rise  my  soul  to  vex 

Among  these  peaceful  book-relations, 
Nor  envious  strife  of  age  or  sex 

To  mar  my  quiet  lucubrations. 

And  they  have  still  another  merit, 

Which  otherwhere  one  vainly  seeks, 
Whatever  may  be  an  author's  spirit, 

He  never  uninvited  speaks  ; 
And  should  he  prove  a  fool  or  clown, 

Unworth  the  precious  time  you  're  spending, 
How  quickly  yon  can  "  put  him  down," 

Or  "shut  him  up,"  without  offending  ! 

Here  —  pleasing  sight !  —  the  touchy  brood 

Of  critics  from  dissension  cease ; 
And  —  stranger  still !  —  no  more  at  feud, 

Polemics  smile,  and  keep  the  peace. 
See !  side  by  side,  all  free  from  strife 

(Save  what  the  heavy  page  may  smother), 


22  MY  BOOKS. 

The  gentle  "  Christians"  who  in  life, 

For  conscience'  sake,  had  burned  each  other ! 

I  call  them  friends,  these  quiet  books ; 

And  well  the  title  they  may  claim, 
Who  always  give  me  cheerful  looks  j 

(What  living  friend  has  done  the  same  ?) 
And,  for  companionship,  how  few, 

As  these,  my  cronies  ever  present, 
Of  all  the  friends  I  ever  knew 

Have  been  so  useful  and  so  pleasant  ] 


ESSE   QUAM  VIDERI. 

"  To  be,  not  seem  !  "  —  the  phrase  is  old, 
And  looks  heroic,  't  is  confessed  ; 

And  yet,  for  all  its  gloss  of  gold, 

'T  will  scarcely  stand  the  final  test  j 

For,  in  effect,  full  many  a  truth 

Is  in  the  seeming,  not  the  sooth. 

Be  false,  then  1    No  !  —  let  Truth  appear 

In  her  own  guise,  if  so  it  be 
Her  words  are  such  as  men  may  hear 

Unhurt,  and  such  as  harm  not  thee  ; 
But  guard  thy  seeming,  nor  reveal 
The  fault  that  silence  would  conceal. 

"  Open  and  honest !  "  sayest  thou  : 

"  Why  to  my  neighbor  not  make  known 


24  ESSE  QUAM  VIDERI. 

All  ugly  soul-spots  I  avow 

To  my  own  conscience  as  my  own ; 
Plain  as  the  freckles  he  may  trace, 
Unasked,  upon  my  hand  or  face  1 " 

I  answer  thus  :  The  Mighty  One 
Who  made  thy  best,  immortal  part, 

Made  it  invisible,  that  none 

May  see  thy  mind  or  read  thy  heart, 

Save  as  thou  wilt ;  else  were  thy  soul 

In  others',  not  thine  own  control. 

'T  is  well  that  God  alone  can  see 
The  hearts  of  men  that  he  has  made 

Within  their  breasts  ;  since  only  he 
With  their  infirmities  has  weighed 

Their  sins,  —  to  human  frailty  just, 

Knowing  full  well  we  are  but  dust. 

And  as  we  hide,  for  very  shame, 

With  garments  cunning  Art  doth  lend, 

Whatever  of  our  fleshly  frame, 

Undraped,  would  mortal  eyes  offend 

(While  to  the  Maker,  ne'er  the  less, 

His  power  and  wisdom  we  confess); 


ESSE  QUAM  VIDERL  25 

So  let  our  souls  —  which,  all  unclad, 
Though  fair  as  souls  on  earth  may  be, 

Were  still  a  sight  to  make  men  sad, 
Unmeet  for  human  eyes  to  see  — 

In  modest  drapery  conceal 

The  faults  't  were  shameful  to  reveal. 

Nay,  as,  with  no  unlawful  arts, 

We  deck  our  forms  to  make  them  fair, 

Who  shall  aver  our  wayward  hearts 
May  not  receive  an  equal  care, 

That,  like  our  bodies,  they  may  be 

In  seemly  plight  for  company  1 


THE  DEAD  LETTER. 

AND  can  it  be  1    Ah,  yes,  I  see, 

'T  is  thirty  years  and  better 
Since  Mary  Morgan  sent  to  me 

This  musty,  musky  letter. 
A  pretty  hand  (she  could  n't  spell), 

As  any  man  must  vote  it ; 
And  't  was,  as  I  remember  well, 

A  pretty  hand  that  wrote  it  ! 

How  calmly  now  I  view  it  all, 
As  memory  backward  ranges,  — 

The  talks,  the  walks,  that  I  recall, 
And  then  —  the  postal  changes  ! 

How  well  I  loved  her  I  can  guess 
(Since  cash  is  Cupid's  hostage),  — 


THE  DEAD  LETTER.  27 

Just  one-and-sixpence  —  nothing  less  — 
This  letter  cost  in  postage  ! 

The  love  that  wrote  at  such  a  rate 

(By  Jove !  it  was  a  steep  one  !) 
Five  hundred  notes  (I  calculate) 

Was  certainly  a  deep  one  ; 
And  yet  it  died  —  of  slow  decline  — 

Perhaps  suspicion  chilled  it ; 
I  've  quite  forgotten  if 't  was  mine 

Or  Mary's  flirting  killed  it. 

At  last  the  fatal  message  came  : 

"  My  letters,  —  please  return  them  • 
And  yours  —  of  course  you  wish  the  same  — 

I  '11  send  them  back  or  burn  them." 
Two  precious  fools,  I  must  allow, 

Whichever  was  the  greater  : 
I  wonder  if  I  'm  wiser  now, 

Some  seven  lustres  later  ? 

And  this  alone  remains  !     Ah,  well ! 

These  words  of  warm  affection, 
The  faded  ink, 'the  pungent  smell, 

Are  food  for  deep  reflection. 


28  THE  DEAD  LETTEE. 

They  tell  of  how  the  heart  contrives 
To  change  with  fancy's  fashion, 

And  how  a  drop  of  musk  survives 
The  strongest  human  passion  ! 


TO  A  CITY  COUSIN  ABOUT  TO  BE  MARRIED. 

(8.  E.) 

Is  it  true,  what  they  tell  me,  my  beautiful  cousin, 

You  are  going  to  be  married  1  —  have  settled  the  day? 
That  the  cards  are  all  printed]  —  the  wedding-dress 
chosen  1  — 

And  everything  fixed  for  an  evening  in  May  ? 
Ah  —  well  !  — just  imagine,  —  had  /  been  a  Turk, 

And  you  —  but,  no  matter,  —  't  is  idle  to  whine  ; 
In  the  purest  of  bosoms  some  envy  may  lurk, 

And  I  feel  a  little  (I  own  it !)  in  mine  ! 

'T  is  over  !  —  the  struggle  was  but  for  a  minute  ; 

And  now  let  me  give  you,  dear  cousin,  I  pray, 
A  word  of  advice,  —  if  there 's  anything  in  it, 

Accept  it ;  if  not,  you  can  throw  it  away. 
An  excellent  maxim  is  "  crede  experto  "  ; 

Which  means  (since  your  Latin  I  venture  to  doubt) 


30     TO  A  CITY  COUSIN  ABOUT  TO  BE  MARRIED. 

For  practical  wisdom  't  is  best  to  refer  to 

A  teacher  who  knows  what  he  's  talking  about. 

C'est  moi  !    I  Ve  been  married  this  many  a  year ; 

And  know  rather  more  than  a  bachelor  can, 
And  more  —  I  suppose  it  is  equally  clear  — 

Than  a  very  young  wife  or  a  new-married  man. 
Of  course  there  '11  be  matters  to  worry  and  vex, 

But  woman  is  mighty,  and  Patience  endures ; 
And  ours  —  recollect  —  is  the  (much)  "  softer  sex," 

Though  we  (not  very  gallantly)  say  it  of  yours  ! 

The  strong  should  be  merciful !     Woman  we  find, 

Though  weaker  in  body,  surpassing  us  still 
In  virtue ;  and  strong  —  very  strong  in  her  mind, 

(When  she  knows  what  it  is  !)  —  not  to  mention  her 

will. 
Be  gentle  !     How  hard  you  will  find  it  to  bear 

When  your  husband  is  wrong  ;  and  as  difficult,  quite, 
In  the  other  contingency,  — not  at  all  rare,  — 

When  you  're  forced,  in  your  heart,  to  confess  he  was 
right ! 

Be  careful  of  trifles  :  a  maxim  of  weight 

In  questions  affecting  the  heart  or  the  head ; 


TO  A  CITY  COUSIN  ABOUT  TO  BE  MARRIED.      31 

In  wedlock,  consider  how  often  the  fate 

Of  the  gravest  affairs  may  depend  on  a  thread. 

On  a  button  perhaps  !     Ah  !  the  "  conjugal  tie  " 
Should  never  be  strained  to  its  ultimate  test ; 

Full  many  a  matron  has  found,  with  a  sigh, 
That  the  fixture  was  barely  a  button,  at  best ! 

A  truce  to  our  jesting.     While  friends  by  the  dozen 
Their  kind  gratulations  are  fain  to  employ ; 

None    more    than    your    poet  —  your    mirth-loving 

cousin  — 
Puts  his  heart  in  the  words  while  he 's  "  wishing  you 

joy." 

Quite  through  to  its  close  may  your  conjugal  life 
Maintain  the  impressions  with  which  it  began  ; 

The  women  still  saying,  "  I  envy  the  wife," 
And  husbands  exclaiming,  "  I  envy  the  man ! " 

May  25,  1870. 


HOW  TO  WOO  AND  WIN. 

WOULD  you  play  the  manly  lover, 
(Said  a  graybeard  to  his  son), 

List,  my  lad,  while  I  discover 
How  a  maiden  should  be  won. 

Woo  her  not  with  boastful, phrases, 
Lest  you  teach  her  lip  to  sneer  ; 

Still  a  suitor's  warmest  praises 
In  his  conduct  should  appear. 

Woo  her  not  with  senseless  sighing ; 

Maidens  love  a  laughing  eye  : 
Tell  her  not  that  you  are  "  dying," 

Lest  she,  mocking,  bid  you  die  ! 


HOW  TO  WOO  AND  WIN.  33 

Woo  her  not  with  weakly  whining 

O'er  your  poverty  of  pelf, 
Lest  she  answer  by  declining 

Both  your  sorrows  and  yourself ! 

Woo  her  with  a  manly  wooing  ; 

Giving  hostages  to  Fate, 
All  the  heart's  devotion  showing 

By  its  strength  to  work  and  wait. 

Woo  her  not  with  idle  prattle 

Whom  you  fain  would  make  your  wife  ; 
But  with  proof  that  in  life's  battle 

You  are  equal  to  the  strife. 

Like  the  knight  whose  simple  suing 

Won  the  lady  (says  the  tale), 
When,  despite  their  wordy  wooing, 

All  the  rest  were  doomed  to  fail :  — 

"  Lady  !  "  quoth  the  bold  Knight  Errant, 

"  Brief  the  story  I  shall  tell  : 
I  would  wed  thee  ;  here  's  the  warrant 

I  shall  love  and  serve  thee  well ! " 


34  HOW  TO  WOO  AND  WIN. 

And,  behold  !  his  dexter  fingers 
Crush  a  horse-shoe,  like  a  reed  ! 

And  within  her  lap  there  lingers 
All  the  gold  the  twain  can  need ! 


PARTING  WORDS. 

FAREWELL  !     Howe'er  it  fare  with  me, 
(But  God  is  good  !)  I  pray  for  thee 
Such  peace  as  Heaven  may  grant  to  one 
Who,  basking  in  the  summer  sun 
Of  pleasure,  for  life's  nobler  part 
Bears  evermore  a  wintry  heart. 

And  if  I  lose  what  could  not  last, 
With  little  grief  that  all  is  past, 
For  me,  I  deem  my  sin  was  small : 
No  broken  pledges  I  recall ; 
No  shaken  constancy  \  no  Word 
Of  faith,  save  what  might  be  inferred 
From  lips  that  did  but  warmly  kiss, 
Or  speak,  no  other  sense  than  this,  — 
That  thou  wert  beautiful,  and  seemed 
The  bright  ideal  I  had  dreamed 


36  PARTING  WORDS. 

My  kind,  but  somewhat  tardy  Fate     «  , 
Would  .send,  one  day,  to  be  my  mate. 
And,  for  a  while,  I  looked  to  thee, 
With  fond  expectancy,  to  see 
(As  suited  with  thy  handsome  face, 
Fair  to  excess  !)  the  inward  grace, 
The  noble  soul,  the  brilliant  mind, 
That  form  the  flower  of  womankind. 

The  proverb  says,  "  We  live  and  learn  " ; 
And  so  it  came  that  I  discern 
(Since  now  I  read  thee,  through  and  through, 
With  eyes  somewhat  love-blinded,  too  !) 
A  nature  shallow,  fickle,  cold  ; 
A  judgment  weak,  yet  over-bold; 
A  heart  that  yearns,  when  passion-moved, 
To  love  1     No  !  —  only  to  be  loved  ! 
And  yet  receives  the  precious  store, 
Unconscious  of  the  costly  ore, 
As  an  unthinking  child  might  cry 
For  diamonds  flashing  in  its  e}7e, 
Whom  bits  of  glass  had  pleased  as  well ! 

I  thank  the  Fate  who  broke  the  spell ; 
I  thank  thee  for  the  petty  spite, 
That  for  a  small,  imagined  slight, 


PAETING  WOKDS.  37 

(Though  graver  sins  had  passed  unseen  !) 
At  last  dethroned  my  Fancy's  queen, 
And  left  me  musing  how  a  face 
Which  once  had  worn  so  sweet  a  grace 
Could,  in  a  moment,  (wondrous  change  !) 
Its  warmest  worshipper  estrange  ! 


MISERERE  DOMINE! 

A   HYMN. 

HAVE  pity,  Lord  !  —  we  humbly  cry, 
With  trembling  voice,  and  tearful  eye ; 
Thou  know'st  our  ignorance  and  sin, 
And  what  by  grace  we  might  have  been ; 
All  —  all  is  known,  0  Lord,  to  thee  ; 
Miserere  Domine  ! 

Our  public  walks  and  private  ways ; 
The  follies  of  our  youthful  days ; 
Our  manhood's  errors,  —  every  stain 
Of  lust  and  pride  to  thee  are  plain  ; 
For  who,  0  Lord  !  can  hide  from  thee  ? 
Miserere  Domine  / 


MISEKEEE  DOMINE  !  39 

Too  late  we  mourn  our  wasted  hours, 
Neglected  gifts,  perverted  powers ; 
Affections  warm,  of  heavenly  birth, 
Lavished,  alas  !  on  toys  of  earth  : 
How  far  estranged,  0  Lord,  from  thee  ! 
x  Miserere  Domine  ! 

How  oft,  0  Lord  !  things  bright  and  fair 
To  human  sight,  are  but  a  snare ; 
A  gilded  bait  to  lure  the  soul 
Within  the  subtle  Fiend's  control : 
But  there  is  refuge,  Lord,  in  thee  ! 
Miserere  Domine  ! 

0,  let  us  never  feel  in  vain 
From  thy  dear  hand  the  warning  pain  ; 
The  Father's  stripes  upon  us  laid 
In  mercy,  for  thy  children's  aid  : 
Teach  us  in  all  thy  hand  to  see  : 

Miserere  Domine  I 

"  Our  Father  ! "  thou  dost  bid  us  pray  ; 
As  children  who  are  prone  to  stray 


40  MISERERE  DOMINE  ! 

In  devious  paths,  whence  we  retreat 
With  garments  torn  and  bleeding  feet 
Our  Father !  let  us  fly  to  thee  : 

Miserere  Domine  ! 

OUR  FATHER  !  ever-blessed  name  ! 
To  thee  we  bring  our  sin  and  shame ; 
Weak  though  we  be,  perverse  of  will, 
Thou  art  our  gracious  Father  still, 
Who  knowest  well  how  frail  we  be. 
Miserere  Domine  ! 


THE   DUKE'S    STRATAGEM. 

A   MILANESE   TALE. 

THE  Duke  of  Milan  —  Galeazzo  named  — 
Supremely  loved  Correggia,  widely  famed 
For  every  charm  a  maiden  might  possess  ; 
And,  in  her  heart,  she  loved  the  Duke  no  less  • 
Though  each,  awhile  (so  churlish  Fate  designed 
To  mar  their  bliss)  knew  not  the  other's  mind, 
But  hoped  and  feared  in  silence  ;  till,  at  last, 
When  many  a  moon  of  trembling  doubt  was  passed, 
And  Gossip  vainly  had  essayed  to  seek 
The  cause  of  Galeazzo's  pallid  cheek 
And  moody  air,  some  ladies  of  the  Court 
Addressed  him  boldly  thus  (as  half  in  sport 
And  half  in  earnest)  :  "  Sire  !  we  all  can  see 
Your  Highness  is  in  love  !  —  and  now,  that  we 


42  THE  DUKE'S  STEATAGEM. 

May  pay  our  loyal  service  where  the  same 

Is  justly  due,  we  fain  would  know  the  name 

Of  her,  —  the  happy  lady  of  your  choice  !  " 

Surprised,  abashed,  the  Duke,  with  faltering  voice, 

In  civil  sort  such  merry  answers  made, 

As  best  might  serve  the  question  to  evade. 

In  vain  !  as  one  by  one  their  weapons  fail, 

With  fresh  artillery  they  the  Duke  assail, 

Until,  at  length,  't  is  clear  the  man  must  yield, 

By  clamor  overpowered,  —  or  fly  the  field  ! 

"A  truce,  —  a  truce ! "  he  cried,  "  for  mercy's  sake  ! 

Now,  please  you  all !  a  banquet  I  will  make, 

Such  as  may  suit  so  fair  a  company : 

Come,  one  and  all,  and  see  what  you  shall  see, 

To  aid  —  perchance  to  end  —  your  merry  quest." 

And  all  said  "  Aye  !  "  —  Correggia  with  the  rest. 

The  banquet  over,  Galeazzo  set 

Upon  the  board  a  curious  cabinet 

In  which,  upon  a  panel,  was  portrayed, 

In  happiest  art,  the  picture  of  a  maid 

(Some  clever  painter's  fancy).     "  There  ! "  said  he, 

All  ye  who  choose,  my  lady-love  may  see  !  " 

Now,  when  the  fair  Correggia  —  lingering  last, 

For  fearfulness  —  observed  that  all  who  passed 


THE  DUKE'S  STRATAGEM.  43 

The  pictured  girl,  in  silence  turned  away 

As  from  a  face  unknown,  —  in  deep  dismay 

She  took  her  turn  to  gaze  ;  when,  God  of  Grace  ! 

She  saw  no  painted  image,  but  the  face 

Which  her  own  features,  radiantly  fair, 

Reflected,  blushing,  in  a  mirror  there  ! 

And  so  it  was  the  two  true  loves  were  known ; 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  not  alone 

The  happy  Galeazzo  filled  the  ducal  throne ! 


TEMPORA  MUTANTUR. 

"  THE  times  are  changed  !  "  long,  long  ago, 

A  Roman  graybeard  sighed  ; 
"  And  still,  as  seasons  wax  and  wane, 

We  change  with  time  and  tide." 
And  I  (alas  !  that  I  must  own 

My  locks  are  growing  scanter !) 
In  pensive  retrospect  repeat, 

0  tempora  mutantur  ! 

Where  now  are  all  the  village  belles 

1  sonneteered  of  yore  1 

Gone,  —  with  the  fashion  of  the  boots 
And  bonnets  which  they  wore  ; 

Their  dimpled  cheeks  are  wrinkled  now, 
And  Time  —  the  Disenchanter ! 


TEMPORA  MUTANTUR.  45 

Has  dimmed  the  eyes  that  dazzled  mine,  — 
0  tempora  mutantur  ! 

0,  how  we  raved  of  constancy, 

Melinda  May  and  I ! 
I  've  quite  forgotten  which  was  first 

To  break  the  tender  tie ; 
I  know  that  I  survived  the  shock, 

(Though  sworn  to  die  instanter  !) 
And  'Linda  lived  —  to  love  again,  — 

0  tempora  mutantur  ! 

Good  Dr.  Proser,  where  is  he  ? 

Whose  logic  clear  and  strong 
The  vestry  praised,  —  nor  ever  deemed 

The  sermon  over-long, 
Until  they  heard,  and  quite  preferred 

The  Reverend  Rousing  Ranter  ; 
To  whom  succeeded  Parson  Prim,  — 

0  tempora  mutantur  f 

Yes,  times  are  changed  ;  but  one  can  dine, 
And  Mag 's  the  best  of  cooks. 


46  TEMPORA  MUTANTUR. 

"  No  dinner  1 "   John  !    "  Sir,  if  you  please, 
Mag 's  gone  to  '  go  for  Snooks ' !  " 

And  wife  ?     "  She  's  gone  along  with  Mag." 
John  !  bring  me  that  decanter  !  — 

By  Jove  !  I  '11  go  and  vote  for  Jones  ! 
0  tempora  mutantur  ! 


A    CHARMING    WOMAN. 

A  CHARMING  woman,  I  've  heard  it  said 

By  other  women  as  light  as  she ; 
But  all  in  vain  I  puzzle  my  head 

To  find  wherein  the  charm  may  be. 
Her  face,  indeed,  is  pretty  enough, 

And  her  form  is  quite  as  good  as  the  best. 
Where  Nature  has  given  the  bony  stuff, 

And  a  clever  milliner  all  the  rest. 

Intelligent  1     Yes,  —  in  a  certain  way  ; 

With  a  feminine  gift  of  ready  speech  ; 
And  knows  very  well  what  not  to  say 

Whenever  the  theme  transcends  her  reach. 
But  turn  the  topic  on  things  to  wear, 

From  an  opera  cloak  to  a  role  de  nuit,  — 


48  A  CHAKMING  WOMAN. 

Hats,  basques,  or  bonnets,  —  't  will  make  you  stare 
To  see  how  fluent  the  lady  can  be  ! 

Her  laugh  is  hardly  a  thing  to  please ; 

For  an  honest  laugh  must  always  start 
From  a  gleesome  mood,  like  a  sudden  breeze, 

And  hers  is  purely  a  matter  of  art,  — 
A  muscular  motion  made  to  show 

What  Nature  designed  to  lie  beneath 
The  finer  mouth  ;  but  what  can  she  do, 

If  that  is  ruined  to  show  the  teeth  1 

To  her  seat  in  church  —  a  good  half-mile  — 
When  the  day  is  fine  she  is  sure  to  go, 

Arrayed,  of  course,  in  the  latest  style 
La  mode  de  Paris  has  got  to  show  ; 

And  she  puts  her  hands  on  the  velvet  pew 
(Can  hands  so  white  have  a  taint  of  sin  ?) 

And  thinks  —  how  her  prayer-book's  tint  of  blue 
Must  harmonize  with  her  milky  skin  ! 

Ah  !  what  shall  we  say  of  one  who  walks 
In  fields  of  flowers  to  choose  the  weeds  1 


A  CHAKMING  WOMAN.  49 

Reads  authors  of  whom  she  never  talks, 
And  talks  of  authors  she  never  reads  1 

She  's  a  charming  woman,  I  've  heard  it  said 
By  other  women  as  light  as  she  ; 

But  all  hi  vain  I  puzzle  my  head 
To  find  wherein  the  charm  may  be. 


"JUSTINE,   YOU   LOVE   ME   NOT ! " 

"Helas  !  vous  ne  m'aimez  pas."  —  PIRON. 

I  KNOW,  Justine,  you  speak  me  fair 

As  often  as  we  meet ; 
And  't  is  a  luxury,  I  swear, 

To  hear  a  voice  so  sweet ; 
And  yet  it  does  not  please  me  quite, 

The  civil  way  you  've  got ; 
For  me  you  're  something  too  polite,  — 

Justine,  you  love  me  not ! 

I  know,  Justine,  you  never  scold 

At  aught  that  I  may  do  : 
If  I  am  passionate  or  cold, 

'T  is  all  the  same  to  you. 


"JUSTINE,   YOU  LOVE  ME  NOT!"  51 

"  A  charming  temper,"  say  the  men, 

"  To  smooth  a  husband's  lot "  : 
I  wish  't  were  ruffled  now  and  then,  — 

Justine,  you  love  me  not ! 

I  know,  Justine,  you  wear  a  smile 

As  beaming  as  the  sun  ; 
But  who  supposes  all  the  while 

It  shines  for  only  one  1 
Though  azure  skies  are  fair  to  see, 

A  transient  cloudy  spot 
In  yours  would  promise  more  to  me,  — 

Justine,  you  love  me  not ! 

I  know,  Justine,  you  make  my  name 

Your  eulogistic  theme, 
And  say  —  if  any  chance  to  blame  — 

You  hold  me  in  esteem. 
Such  words,  for  all  their  kindly  scope, 

Delight  me  not  a  jot ; 
Just  so  you  would  have  praised  the  Pope,  — 

Justine,  you  love  me  not ! 

I  know,  Justine,  —  for  I  have  heard 
What  friendly  voices  tell,  — 


52  "  JUSTINE,   YOU  LOVE  ME  NOT  !  " 

You  do  not  blush  to  say  the  word, 
"  You  like  me  passing  well  "  j 

And  thus  the  fatal  sound  I  hear 
That  seals  my  lonely  lot : 

There  's  nothing  now  to  hope  or  fear, 
Justine,  you  love  me  not ! 


"BE   GOOD   TO   YOURSELF." 

"  GOOD  BY  !  good  by  !  "  the  driver  said, 

As  the  coach  went  off  in  a  whirl ; 
(And  the  coachman  bowed  his  handsome  head ;) 

"  Be  good  to  yourself,  —  my  girl!  " 

Ah  !  many  a  fond  good-by  I  've  heard, 

From  many  an  aching  heart ; 
And  many  a  friendly  farewell  word, 

When  strangers  came  to  part  \ 

And  I  've  heard  a  thousand  merry  quips, 

And  many  a  senseless  joke, 
And  many  a  fervent  prayer  from  lips 

That  all  a-tremble  spoke ; 

And  many  a  bit  of  good  advice 
In  smooth  proverbial  phrase ; 


54  "BE  GOOD  TO  YOURSELF." 

And  many  a  wish  —  of  little  price  — 
For  health  and  happy  days  : 

But  musing  how  the  human  soul 
(Whate'er  the  Fates  may  will) 

Still  measures  by  its  self-control 
Its  greatest  good  or  ill,  — 

Of  benedictions,  I  protest, 
'Mid  many  a  shining  pearl, 

I  like  the  merry  coachman's  best,  — 
"  Be  good  to  yourself,  —  my  girl ! " 


TO  A  BACHELOR  FRIEND  IN  THE  COUNTRY. 

COME  and  see  us,  any  day ; 

With  his  choicest  mercies 
Heaven  has  showered  my  rugged  way, 

Plenty  —  as  my  verses. 
Share  my  home,  0  lonely  elf, 

Cosiest  of  houses 
Wisely  ordered,  like  myself ! 

By  the  best  of  spouses. 

Though  't  is  small  upon  the  ground, 

I  may  fairly  mention 
Toward  the  sky  it  will  be  found 

Of  sublime  extension. 
Narrow  is  a  city-lot, 

When  you  've  truly  said  it ; 


56  TO  A  BACHELOR  FEIEND  IN  THE  COUNTRY. 

But  the  "  stories  "  we  have  got 
You  would  scarcely  credit ! 


Though  the  stairs  are  something  tall, 

You  have  but  to  clamber 
Up  the  fourth ;  "  upon  the  wall 

Is  the  Prophet's  chamber." 
Thence  my  garden  you  may  view, 

Kept  with  costly  labor, 
Specially  for  me  and  you, 

By  my  wealthy  neighbor. 

Books  —  you  hardly  need  be  told  — 

Wait  your  welcome  coming ; 
Some  I  warrant  —  mainly  old  — 

Worthy  of  your  thumbing. 
For  the  rest,  I  only  swear. 

Though  they  're  rather  recent, 
You  will  find  the  printing  fair, 

And  the  binding  decent. 

Breakfast  1  —  Mutton-chops  at  eight 
(Cook  will  do  them  nicely). 


TO  A  BACHELOR  FRIEND  IN  THE  COUNTRY.   57 

Dinner  1  —  What  you  choose  to  state, 

Served  at  two  precisely. 
Bed]  —  Delicious  (not  a  few 

Were  the  swans  who  lined  it) 
As  a  bachelor,  like  you, 

Could  expect  to  find  it ! 


LOVE    AND    MONEY. 

A    HOMILY. 

OF  course,  my  dear  Charley,  I  hold, 

As  a  poet  and  moralist  should, 
That  love  is  far  better  than  gold 

(Though  gold  is  undoubtedly  good)  j 
And  yet,  as  the  proverb  declares, 

I  fear  me  the  doctrine  is  true, 
That  in  managing  human  affairs, 

"  U  amour  fait  beaucoup  ;  Vargentfait  tout  /" 

You  wish  —  for  example  —  to  win 

A  proper  companion  for  life, 
(At  forty  't  is  time  to  begin  .') 

And  so  you  go  courting  a  wife  ; 
You  offer  your  heart  and  your  purse, 

But  much  as  affection  may  do, 


LOVE  AXD   MONEY.  59 

There  's  meaning,  no  doubt,  in  the  verse, 

"  L  'amour  fait  beaucoup  ;  I' argent  fait  tout !  " 

You  purchase  an  elegant  house, 

As  an  opulent  gentleman  ought ; 
And  you  and  your  beautiful  spouse 

By  people  of  Fashion  are  sought : 
But  when  YOU  remember  the  way 

"  Society  "  chooses  her  few, 
Perhaps  you  may  sigh  as  you  say, 

"  L  amour  fait  beaucoup  ;  £  argent  fait  tout  /" 

In  conjugal  matters  as  well 

As  those  of  a  worldlier  sort, 
What  virtue  in  money  may  dwell 

Were  worthy  a  sage's  report ; 
You  're  honored  —  0,  not  for  your  pelf ; 

But,  taking  the  rosiest  view, 
Do  you  think  it  is  all  for  yourself? 

11 L  amour  fait  beaucoup  ;  V  argent  fait  tout  /" 

0,  love  is  a  beautiful  thing, 
A  passion  of  heavenly  birth  ; 


GO  LOVE  AND  MONEY. 

But  money  's  a  tyrannous  king, 
The  mightiest  monarch  on  earth  ; 

And,  in  managing  human  affairs, 
I  fear  me  the  doctrine  is  true, 

As  the  old  Gallic  proverb  declares, 

"  L 'amour  fait  beaucoup  ;   P argent  fait  tout  f" 


ODE. 


ON  OCCASION  OF  THE  UNVEILING  OF  THE  BUST  OF  JOHN  HOWARD  PAYNE, 
IN  PROSPECT  PARK,  BROOKLYN,  N.  Y.,  SEPTEMBER  27,  1873. 

To  him  who  sang  of  "Home,  sweet  Home," 

In  strains  so  sweet  the  simple  lay 
Has  thrilled  a  million  hearts,  we  come 

A  nation's  grateful  debt  to  pay. 
Yet  not  for  him  the  bust  we  raise; 

Ah  no  !  can  lifeless  lips  prolong 
Fame's  trumpet  voice  ]     The  poet's  praise 

Lives  in  the  music  of  his  song ! 

The  noble  dead  we  fondly  seek 

To  honor  with  applauding  breath  : 

Unheeded  fall  the  words  we  speak 
Upon  "  the  dull,  cold  ear  of  death." 


62  ODE. 

Yet  not  in  vain  the  spoken  word, 
Nor  vain  the  monument  we  raise  ; 

With  quicker  throbs  our  hearts  are  stirred 
To  catch  the  nobleness  we  praise  ! 

Columbia's  sons,  —  we  share  his  fame ; 

'T  is  for  ourselves  the  bust  we  rear, 
That  they  who  mark  the  graven  name 

May  know  that  name  to  us  is  dear ; 
Dear  as  the  home  the  exile  sees,  — 

The  fairest  spot  beneath  the  sky,  — 
Where  first  • —  upon  a  mothers  knees  — 

He  slept,  and  where  he  yearns  to  die. 

But  not  alone  the  lyric  fire 

Was  his  ;  the  Drama's  muse  can  tell 
His  genius  could  a  Kean  inspire ; 

A  Kemble  owned  his  magic  spell  • 
A  Kean,  to  "  Brutus'  "  self  so  true, 

(As  true  to  Art  and  Nature's  laws,) 
He  seemed  the  man  the  poet  drew, 

And  shared  with  him  the  town's  applause. 

Kind  hearts  and  brave,  with  truth  severe, 
He  drew,  unconscious,  from  his  own  ; 


ODE.  63 

0  nature  rare  !     But  pilgrims  here 

Will  oft'nest  say,  in  pensive  tone, 
With  reverent  face  and  lifted  hand, 

"  'T  was  he  —  by  Fortune  forced  to  roam  — 
Who,  homeless  in  a  foreign  land, 

So  sweetly  sang  the  joys  of  home  !  " 


PART   OF   AN  AFTER-DINNER   SPEECH. 

SPOKEN  AT  THE   FESTIVAL  OF  THE  41sT  ANNUAL  CONVENTION  OF  *I 
Y*IAON  AT  DELMONICO'S,   NEW  YORK,  APRIL  8,  1874. 

DEAR  BROTHERS  :  I  'm  something  unhappy.     I  heard 

Such  abuse,  t'  other  day,  of  an  innocent  word 

It  roused  all  the  wrath  of  the  mildest  of  men 

To  a  height  as  colossal,  I  fancy,  as  when 

A  former  occasion  provoked  the  inquiry 

In  the  mind  of  the  Mantuan,  "  Tantcene  irce  ?  " 

You  '11  say  there  was  reason,  —  I  '11  state  you  the  case 

There  's  a  boy  in  my  house  in  whose  handsomish  face 

Are  features  from  which  one  may  easily  gather 

He  is  fairly  entitled  to  call  me  his  father  : 

A  youngster  of  thirty  ;  as  yet  rather  slim, 

But  of  excellent  promise  in  stature  and  limb. 

Well,  —  to  tell  you  the  story,  —  a  saucy  young  boor 

Of  Johnnys  acquaintance  came  up  to  the  door, 


PART  OF  AN  AFTER-DINNER  SPEECH.  65 

And,  ringing  the  bell  in  a  violent  way, 

Sent  up  the  Hibernian  maiden  to  say 

That  a  gentleman  wanted,  a  moment,  to  see 

"  Mister  "  (adding  the  surname  belonging  to  me). 

"  Bid  him  come  to  my  study  !  "  I  civilly  said. 

In  a  minute  or  so  Maggie  popped  in  her  head ; 

"  It  was  not  for  yourself,  sure,  the  fellow  did  ax  ; 

He  said  it  was  young  and  not  old  Mister  S — e 

He  wanted  to  see  !  " 

And  am  I  to  be  told 

By  a  blundering  booby  that  I  —  /am  old ? 
The  word,  I  'm  aware, 'is  by  no  means  a  new  one, 
And  for  people  of  eighty,  no  doubt,  is  the  true  one  ; 
What  incensed  my  soul  to  such  fierce  indignation 
Was  its  very  improper,  absurd  application! 
Is  he  old  who  can  climb  to  the  highest  of  attics, 
And  never  complain  of  fatigue  or  "  rheumatics  "  ] 
Is  he  old  who,  in  spite  of  his  fast-thinning  curls, 
Has  a  joke  for  the  boys  and  a  smile  for  the  girls  1 
Is  he  old  whom  fair  women  —       (No  !    not  the  duress 
Of  prison  or  torture  shall  make  me  confess  !) 
Is  he  old  who  owes  nothing  to  fraudulent  art  1 
Above  all,  is  he  old  who  is  young  at  the  heart  ? 


66  PAET  OF  AN  AFTER-DINNER  SPEECH. 

I  rather  think  not !     But,  quien  sale  ?     Who  knows  1 

The  bud  of  last  evening  to-day  is  a  rose ; 

And  roses  will  fade ;  and,  in  like  manner,  when 

We  jolly  young  fellows  grow  middle-aged  men, 

Perhaps  the  Good  Father  (it  surely  were  kind) 

Makes  us  to  our  failings  conveniently  blind. 

"  Know  yourself!  "  said  the  Grecian.     A  difficult  task, 

And  rather  too  much  of  a  mortal  to  ask ; 

We  all  know  the  name  of  the  fellow  who  penned  it, 

And  how  he  asserted  "  e  coelo  descendit  !  " 

"  Know  yourself !  "     It  is  well ;  but  for  my  part,  my 

brothers, 

I  would  rather  extend  my  acquaintance  with  others, 
As  promising,  surely,  a  better  return 
Than  aught  of  myself  I  could  possibly  learn  ! 
To  learn  Human  Nature  is  truly  an  art, 
And  many  imagine  they  've  got  it  by  heart, 
Because  they  are  keen  at  detecting  offences, 
Base  motives,  sly  vices,  and  shallow  pretences ; 
Let  us  study,  the  rather,  to  find  out  the  merit 
The  faultiest  neighbor  may  chance  to  inherit ', 
To  publish  the  virtue  that 's  misunderstood, 
And  always  and  everywhere  seek  for  the  good. 
There  was  one  "  Paddy  Goldsmith,"  an  author  of  note, 


PART  OF  AN  AFTER-DINNER  SPEECH.  67 

(And  who  has  not  read  what  "poor  Oliver"  wrote  ?) 
A  scholar,  philosopher,  writer  of  plays, 
And  a  poet  who  still  wears  the  freshest  of  bays,  — 
Every  dandy  in  town,  every  chambermaid  Moll, 
Could  tell  of  his  blunders  and  laugh  at  poor  "  Noll "  ; 
Every  coxcomb  could  see  he  was  homely  and  rough, 
And  of  follies  and  foibles  had  more  than  enough  : 
But  it  took  the  profoundest  of  sages  to  scan 
The  learning  and  genius  that  lay  in  the  man  ! 
Sam  Johnson  could  see,  and  was  bold  to  declare, 
There  was  spirit  and  humor  and  poetry  there ; 
And  to  fools  who  might  sneer,  he  had  ever  this  answer  : 
"  You  may  laugh  as  you  will,  sir  !  and  say  what  you 

can,  sir ! 
He  's  a  genuine  wit  and  a  wonderful  man,  sir  !  " 


ODE   TO   THE    LEGISLATURE. 

ON    THE    EXPIRATION    OF    THE    "HUNDRED    DAYS." 

0  WISE  Assembly  !  and  0  wiser  Senate  ! 

I  much  rejoice  to  pen  it,  — 
The  Hundred  Days  in  which  you  lived  in  clover 

Are  gone  and  over  ! 

Gone  are  the  Legislators,  great  and  small ; 
Clerks,  Ushers,  Porters,  Messengers,  and  all 
The  crowd  of  country  cousins  in  the  hall ! 
Gone  are  the  vultures,  large  and  little ; 
Gone  are  the  venders  of  cold  victual ; 
Gone  are  the  ladies,  short  and  tall, 

The  virtuous  and  the  vicious, 
The  meritorious  and  the  meretricious, 
Who  follow  their  vocations 
Where  you  resort ; 
In  short, 


ODE"  TO  THE  LEGISLATURE.  69 

The  Apple-women,  and  the  sort 

With  other  appellations  ! 
Gone  is  the  patient,  patriotic  "  Lobby  "  ; 
Some,  who  have  bagged  their  game 
Laden  with  wealth  —  and  shame  ; 
And  others,  leading  home  their  lame 

And  ill-conditioned  hobby, 
A  little  leaner  than  it  came  ! 

Gone,  too,  the  Sharps  and  Flats  who  swarm 
In  secret  sessions  and  perform 

"  Feats  of  the  Ring  " 

Unequalled  elsewhere,  —  not  the  sort  of  thing 
Where  human  features  catch  defacing  blows, 

But  meaner  feats  than  those, 
Degrading  legislative  Ayes  and  Noes  ! 

0  famous  Hundred  !  — 
In  which  (while  "rural  districts"  wondered) 

Your  little  Tullys  thundered, 

Your    Hectors     blustered,     and    your    Solons    blun 
dered, 

And  Buncombe  —  honest  ass  !  was  praised  —  an'd  plun 
dered  ! 


70  ODE  TO  THE  LEGISLATURE. 

To  think  !  what  wind  and  muscle  were  expended 

(Mere  money  not  to  mention) 

In  quieting  dissension  ! 

What  righteous  bills  opposed,  and  bad  defended  ; 
What  Acts  (and  facts)  were  made  and  marred  and 
mended 

Before  the  Session  ended  ! 

They  say,  0  Legislature  !  in  despite 
Of  all  adverse  appearances,  you  might 

Have  been  much  weaker. 
(How  ?  I  have  asked,  —  but  all  in  vain ; 
None  could,  or  would  explain  !) 
But  this  I  freely  own,  — you  had  a  "Speaker" 
That  justified  the  title,  and  could  speak, 
In  speeches  neither  few  nor  weak ; 

And  though  he  often  pained  us,  — 
When  at  his  highest  pitch  of  declamation, 
The  man's  oration,  and  vocif-oration, 
Were  really  Tremain-dous ! 

Perhaps,  0  Legislature  !  since  your  pay 

Is  rather  small, 
(I  mean,  of  course,  the  regular  per  diem 


ODE  TO  THE  LEGISLATURE.  71 

And  not  the  price  of  votes  when  brokers  buy  'em,) 
You  saw  the  Hundredth  day 
With  pleasure,  after  all. 

If  so,  I  will  not  hint,  —  there 's  little  need,  — 
You  and  the  people  were,  for  once,  agreed  ! 

Farewell,  0  Senate  !  and  Assembly,  too  ! 
Good    by  !    adios  !  a-Dio  !  adieu  ! 

(I  don't  say  au  revoir  /) 
With  common-sense  I  would  n't  be  at  war. 
That  Legislatures  come,  it  needs  must  be, 
(And  go,  thank  Heaven  !)  but  when  I  see 

Your  Ways  and  Means,  I  think 
Of  what,  upon  a  time,  a  person  said 

Touching  an  article  we  eat  and  drink  : 
If  you  'd  enjoy  (quoth  he)  your  gingerbread, 

Or  sip  your  sweetened  coffee  with  delight, 

Of  sugar-making  pray  avoid  the  sight ! 

And  thus,  with  greater  cause, 
Would  we  respect  the  Laws 
(Which  should  be  reverenced  to  be  obeyed), 

IT  IS  N'T  REST  TO  SEE  THEM  MADE  ! 


WHY  :  A   SONNET. 

"  WHY  do  I  love  thee  1 "     Thus,  in  earnest  wise, 
I  answer  :  Sweet !  I  love  thee  for  thy  face 
Of  rarest  beauty  ;  and  for  every  grace 

That  in  thy  voice  and  air  and  motion  lies  ; 

I  love  thee  for  the  love-look  in  thine  eyes,  — • 
The  melting  glance  which  only  one  may  see 
Of  all  who  mark  how  beautiful  they  be  ; 

I  love  thee  for  thy  mind  (which  yet  denies, 

For  modesty,  how  wonderful  it  is) ! 

I  love  thee  for  thy  heart  so  true  and  warm, 
I  love  thee  for  thy  bosom's  hidden  charm  ; 

I  love  thee  for  thy  mouth  so  sweet  to  kiss ; 
Because  of  these  I  love  thee  ;  yet  above 
All  else,  because  I  cannot  choose  but  love  ! 


LAURA. 

IN   MEMORIAM. 

"  0  HATEFUL  Death  !  "  my  angry  spirit  cries, 

"  Who  thus  couldst  take  my  darling  from  my  sight, 
Shrouding  her  beauty  in  sepulchral  night ; 
0  cruel !  unto  prayers  and  tears  and  sighs 
Inexorable  !  "      "  Hush  ! "  my  soul  replies  ; 
"  Be  just,  0  stricken  heart !  the  mortal  strife 
Which  we  call  '  death'  is  birth  to  higher  life. 
Safe  in  the  Father's  Mansion  in  the  skies, 
She  bides  thy  coming ;  only  gone  before, 
A  little  while,  that  at  thy  parting  breath, 
Thou  mayst  endure  a  lighter  pain  of  death, 
And  gladlier  pass  beyond  this  earthly  shore ; 
For,  with  thy  Laura  calling  from  on  high, 
It  cannot,  sure,  be  very  hard  to  die." 


FABLES  AND  FAIRY  TALES. 


THE  TWO  ANGELS. 


AN    ALLEGORY. 


Two  wandering  angels,  Sleep  and  Death, 

Once  met  in  sunny  weather  : 
And  while  the  twain  were  taking  breath, 

They  held  discourse  together. 

Quoth  Sleep  (whose  face,  though  twice  as  fair, 
Was  strangely  like  the  other's,  — 

So  like,  in  sooth,  that  anywhere 

They  might  have  passed  for  brothers) : 

"  A  busy  life  is  mine,  I  trow ; 

Would  I  were  omnipresent ! 
So  fast  and  far  have  I  to  go  \ 

And  yet  my  work  is  pleasant. 


78  THE  TWO  ANGELS. 

"  I  cast  my  potent  poppies  forth, 
And  lo  !  —  the  cares  that  cumber 

The  toiling,  suffering  sons  of  Earth 
Are  drowned  in  sweetest  slumber. 

"  The  student  rests  his  weary  brain, 
And  waits  the  fresher  morrow ; 

I  ease  the  patient  of  his  pain, 
The  mourner  of  his  sorrow. 

"  I  bar  the  gates  where  cares  abide, 
And  open  Pleasure's  portals 

To  visioned  joys ;  thus,  far  and  wide, 
I  earn  the  praise  of  mortals." 

"  Alas  !  "  replied  the  other,  "  mine 
Is  not  a  task  so  grateful ; 

Howe'er  to  mercy  I  incline, 
To  mortals  I  am  hateful. 

"  They  call  me  '  Kill-joy,'  every  one, 
And  speak  in  sharp  detraction 

Of  all  I  do  ;  yet  have  I  done 
Full  many  a  kindly  action." 


THE  TWO  ANGELS.  79 

"  True  !  "  answered  Sleep,  "  but  aU  the  while 

Thine  office  is  berated, 
'T  is  only  by  the  weak  and  vile 

That  thou  art  feared  and  hated. 

"And  though  thy  work  on  earth  has  given 

To  all  a  shade  of  sadness  ; 
Consider  —  every  saint  in  heaven 

Remembers  thee  with  gladness  !  " 


THE    GOLD-FINGERED    BRAHMIN. 

A   HINDOO    TALE. 

A  FAMOUS  merchant,  who  had  made 
A  fine  estate  by  honest  trade 
With  foreign  countries,  —  by  mischance 
(The  failure  of  a  firm  in  France 
And  several  cargoes  lost  at  sea), 
Became  as  poor  as  poor  could  be  ; 
Of  all  his  riches  saving  naught, 
Except,  indeed,  the  pleasing  thought 
Of  generous  deeds  in  better  days, 
Which  some  remembered  to  his  praise. 
Of  these,  a  Brahmin,  who  had  known 
The  merchant  ere  his  wealth  had  flown, 
And  how  he  helped  the  sick  and  poor, 


THE  GOLD-FINGERED  BRAHMIN.  81 

Entered,  one  day,  his  open  door, 

And  said,  "  My  friend  !  I  know  you  well ; 

Your  former  state  ;  and  what  befell 

That  all  was  lost ;  and  well  I  know 

Your  noble  life,  and  fain  would  show 

(Since  I  have  power  —  Heaven  be  adored  !) 

How  all  your  wealth  may  be  restored. 

Now  please  attend  :  whene'er  you  see 

A  Brahmin  who  resembles  me 

In  looks  and  dress  (and  such  an  one 

Will  enter  here  at  set  of  sun), 

Just  strike  him  on  the  forehead  —  thrice  ; 

And  lo  !  his  fingers,  in  a  trice, 

Will  turn  to  solid  gold  !     Of  these 

Cut  off  as  many  as  you  please 

(The  ten  will  make  a  goodly  sum), 

And  thus  the  Brahmin-form  will  come 

Whenever  you  have  need  of  gold. 

Consider  well  what  I  have  told  !  " 

With  this  the  Brahmin  went  away, 
And,  sure  enough,  at  close  of  day, 
A  stranger,  like  the  other,  came,  — 
So  like,  indeed,  he  seemed  the  same,  — 


82  THE  GOLD-FINGERED  BKAHMIN. 

And  sat  him  down  ;  and,  quick  as  thought, 
The  blows  are  struck,  the  charm  is  wrought, 
And  all  his  fingers  turn  to  gold  ! 

0  wondrous  sight !  —  And  now  behold 
The  happy  merchant  rich  once  more 
As  in  his  thrifty  days  of  yore  ! 

A  barber,  curious  to  know 
Whence  all  this  sudden  wealth  might  flow, 
By  watching  morning,  noon,  and  night, 
The  "magic  Brahmin  brought  to  light ; 
At  least,  he  thought  beyond  a  doubt 
He  'd  found  the  golden  secret  out  ; 
And  straight  he  called  three  Brahmins  in, 
And  bade  them  sit  :  "  For  so  I  '11  win," 
The  fellow  reasoned,  "  thrice  as  much 
As  if  a  single  man  I  toucli : 
The  more  the  men,  the  more  the  gold  ! 

1  '11  have  as  much  as  I  can  hold 
In  all  my  pockets,  at  a  blow  !  " 

.    But  when  he  struck  the  Brahmins,  lo  ! 
They  turned  not  into  golden  ores, 
But  turned  —  the  barber  out  of  doors ! 
And,  angry  at  his  scurvy  trick, 
Each  beat  him  soundly  with  a  stick ! 


THE  GOLD-FINGERED  BRAHMIN.  83 

MORAL. 
To  all  who  read  this  pleasant  tale, 

The  barber's  fate  may  serve  to  teach, 
How  sadly  imitators  fail 

Who  aim  at  things  beyond  their  reach  ! 


THE   FARMER  AND   THE   MAGIC   RING. 

A    FAIRY    TALE. 

IN  grateful  reward  of  some  generous  thing 
That  an  honest  young  farmer  had  done 

To  a  wandering  Fairy,  she  gave  him  a  ring 
That  was  set  with  a  magical  stone. 

"  Pray  take  it,  and  wear  it  as  long  as  you  live," 
Said  the  Fay,  as  the  present  she  gave  ; 

"  'T  is  a  wonderful  ring,  and  is  potent  to  give 
Whatever  its  wearer  may  crave. 

"  One  wish,  and  no  more,  it  is  certain  to  bring ; 

Whatever  you  have  in  your  thought, 
You  have  only  to  wish,  —  with  a  turn  of  the  ring, 

And  presto  !  the  marvel  is  wrought ! " 


THE  FARMER  AND  THE  MAGIC  RING.  85 

Now,  what  should  he  wish  1  —  It  was  not  very  clear ; 

And  so  he  consulted  his  spouse  ; 
Who  quickly  replied,  "  Good  gracious  !  my  dear  ! 

Just  wish  for  a  couple  of  cows  !  " 

«  Nay?  —  nay  j  that  were  foolish ! "  the  farmer  replies ; 

"  The  cows  I  can  earn  in  a  year, 
By  the  work  of  my  hands  ;  pray,  let  us  be  wise, 

And  wish  to  some  purpose,  my  dear  !  " 

"  Well,  —  wish  for  more  land  !  "  said  the  voluble  dame ; 

"  There  's  a  meadow  adjoining  our  farm 
You  long  have  been  wanting ;  that  surely  were  game 

Well  worthy  your  magical  charm  !  " 

"  Nay,  —  nay  !  "  said  the  farmer  ;  "that,  too,  I  can  buy 

In  a  couple  of  years,  at  the  most  j 
Something  better  than  that  we  must  find  ere  we  try 

What  virtue  this  bauble  may  boast. 

"  One  wish,  recollect,  is  allowed,  —  and  no  more  ; 

In  waiting  there  's  surely  no  harm  ; 
And  then,  how  the  fault  we  should  ever  deplore 

If  we  foolishly  squander  the  charm  !  " 


86  THE  FARMER  AND  THE  MAGIC  RING. 

And  so  —  it  is  told  —  to  the  day  when  he  died 

By  talent  and  labor  alone 
The  farmer  grew  wealthy,  nor  ever  had  tried 

A  wish  with  the  magical  stone  ! 

MORAL. 
"  0  fool  of  a  farmer  !  "  how  many  will  say, 

"  Who,  having  so  potent  a  ring, 
Just  stupidly  threw  the  advantage  away  !  — 

Was  ever  so  silly  a  thing  ? "  — 
But,  from  wishing  amiss,  what  mortal  can  tell 

What  evil  might  chance  to  befall  1 
Or  know  that  in  wishing  his  choice  were  as  well 

As  not  to  have  chosen  at  all  1 


THE  GRUMBLING  PEASANTS. 

A   EOMAN    TALE. 

ONE  summer's  day  —  the  tale  is  told  — 
An  honest  Peasant,  poor  and  old, 
Worked  in  the  meadow  with  his  wife, 
When  thus  she  spoke  :  "  "Well,  on  my  life  ! 
'T  is  precious  hard  that  you  and  I 
Must  sweat  beneath  the  burning  sky, 
Like  galley  slaves,  for  paltry  pay, 
And  all  because  —  alas  the  day  !  — 
Of  Adam's  fall !     But  for  his  sin 
And  Eve's,  how  happy  we  had  been  ! " 
"  True  ! "  said  the  Peasant ;  "  I  believe, 
Had  I  been  Adam,  you  been  Eve, 
No  foolish  fancies  would  have  come 
To  drive  us  from  our  Eden-home ; 


THE  GRUMBLING  PEASANTS. 

But  all  the  race,  this  very  day, 
Had  in  the  Garden  been  at  play  ! " 
The  Count,  their  master,  standing  near 
(Though  quite  unnoticed),  chanced  to  hear 
Their  wise  discourse ;  and,  laughing,  said  : 
"  Well,  my  good  friends,  suppose  instead 
Of  Paradise,  my  mansion  there 
Were  yours  to-day ;  with  princely  fare 
For  food  to  eat  and  wine  to  drink, 
Would  that  content  ye,  do  ye  think  1 " 

"  Ah  !  that  were  Paradise  indeed  ! 
What  more,"  they  cried,  "  could  mortals  need  1" 
"  Well,  we  shall  see,"  the  Count  replied  j 
"  But  that  your  virtue  may  be  tried, 
Remember,  on  the  table,  served 
With  many  a  dish,  there  's  one  reserved ; 
Partake  of  every  one  you  see 
Save  that,  which  (like  the  Fatal  Tree) 
Just  in  the  centre  I  will  place. 
Beware  of  that !  lest  Adam's  case 
Should  be  your  own,  and  straight  you  go 
Back  to  your  sickle,  rake,  and  hoe  ! " 
Soon  to  the  castle  they  were  led, 
And  by  a  table  richly  spread, 


THE  GRUMBLING  PEASANTS.  89 

As  for  a  bacchanal  carouse, 
Behold  the  Peasant  and  his  spouse  ! 
"  See ! "  said  the  woman,  "  what  a  treat ! 
Far  more,  I  'm  sure,  than  we  can  eat ; 
With  such  excess  we  well  may  spare 
The  dish  that 's  in  the  centre  there  !  " 
"  Who  cares  for  that  ] "  the  Peasant  said ; 
(While  eagerly  the  couple  fed 
From  all  the  plates  that  round  them  lay.) 
"  My  dear !  I  would  n't  look  that  way  ! " 
"  No  harm  in  looking  ! "  said  the  wife  \ 
11 1  would  n't  touch  it  for  my  life." 
But  in  their  minds,  at  length,  there  grew 
A  strong  desire  for  something  new ; 
Whereat  the  woman  said,  "  I  wish 
I  knew  what 's  hidden  in  that  dish  1 " 
"  And,  to  be  sure,"  the  man  replied, 
"  Merely  to  look  was  not  denied  ! " 
"And  even  touching  it,"  said  she, 
"  Were  no  great  harm,  it  seems  to  me ; 
Of  course,  I  will  not  lift  the  lid ; 
And  who  would  know  it  if  I  did  ?  " 
She  suits  the  action  to  the  word, 
When  from  the  dish  a  little  bird 


90  THE  GRUMBLING  PEASANTS. 

(The  Count  had  slily  hidden  there) 
Came  rushing  forth  into  the  air, 
And  through  the  open  window  flew; 
And  so  it  was  the  master  knew 
What  they  had  done.     "  Away ! "  he  said 
"  Back  to  the  field  and  earn  your  bread 
As  you  were  wont,  —  and  ne'er  complain 
Of  Adam  and  of  Eve  again ! " 


THE   LITTLE   GLASS  SHOE. 

A   NORTHLAND    FAIRY   TALE. 

"  Ho  !  ho  !  ha  !  ha !  —  what  is  it  I  view  1 " 

John  Wilde,  the  ploughman,  cried, 
As* he  hit  his  foot  on  a  little  glass  shoe 

That  lay  on  the  mountain-side ; 
"Some  fay  has  lost  it,  there  's  never  a  doubt, 

And  ah  !  how  lucky  for  me  ! 
The  owner  will  soon  be  roaming  about 

To  find  where  his  shoe  may  be. 
And  so,"  said  John,  "  I  '11  carry  it  home, 

That 's  just  what  I  will  do, 
And  he  will  pay  me  a  pretty  sum 

Who  buys  this  little  glass  shoe  !  " 
And  he  spread  the  story  far  and  near, 

For  many  a  mile  around, 


92  THE  LITTLE  GLASS  SHOE. 

That  the  fairy  folk  might  surely  hear 

Who  the  little  glass  shoe  had  found. 
And  soon  to  John  a  merchant  came, 

Who  said  he  had  heard  the  news ; 
And  would  the  ploughman  sell  the  same 

To  a  dealer  in  little  glass  shoes  ] 
And  he  offered  John  a  pretty  price 

For  the  shoe  that  he  had  found ; 
But  John  replied  it  was  much  too  nice 

To  go  for  a  hundred  pound ; 
Then  the  merchant  offered  a  hundred  more, 

But  the  ploughman  still  said,  "  Nay ; 
The  man  who  buys  my  shoe,"  he  swore, 

"  Will  dearly  have  to  pay. 
There  's  not  so  pretty  a  shoe  on  earth 

To  cover  a  lady's  toes ; 
And  then  I  happen  to  know  its  worth 

Far  better  than  you  suppose. 
The  shoe  is  one  of  wondrous  price 

(That  nobody  can  deny), 
And  yet,  perchance,  there  's  some  device 

May  serve  the  shoe  to  buy. 
If  you  are  able  to  show  me,  now, 

WTien  I  am  ploughing  my  field, 


THE  LITTLE  GLASS  SHOE.  93 

That  every  furrow  behind  my  plough 

A  shining  ducat  may  yield,  — 
Why,  then  to  you  the  shoe  1 11  give, 

Else  I  will  keep  it  myself,  — 
For  an  ornament,  as  long  as  I  live, 

To  grace  my  mantel-shelf!  " 
And  so  it  was  the  fairy  bought 

(T  was  he  in  a  merchant's  guise  !) 
His  own  glass  shoe,  and,  quick  as  thought, 

Away  to  his  home  he  hies. 
And  off  went  John,  with  much  delight, 

As  fast  as  he  could  go, 
By  trial  to  prove  that  very  night 

If  the  charm  would  work  or  no. 
And  he  found  the  fairy's  word  was  true, 

As  he  promised  in  the  trade ; 
For  a  shining  ducat  came  to  view 

In  every  furrow  he  made  ! 
And  again  next  morning  off  he  went  — 

Nor  scarce  to  eat  could  stop  — 
To  plough  again,  —  he  was  so  intent 

To  gather  his  golden  crop. 

And  so  he  ploughed,  and  ploughed,  and  ploughed, 
And  scarce  for  slumber  ceased  ; 


94  THE  LITTLE  GLASS  SHOE. 

No  wonder  John  was  growing  proud, 

So  fast  his  wealth  increased ! 
And  still  he  ploughed  by  day  and  night, 

When  none  were  looking  on, 
Till  he  seemed,  indeed,  a  sorry  wight, 

He  grew  so  lean  and  wan !  — 
And  still,  when  none  his  work  might  view, 

He  ploughed  by  night  and  day ; 
And  still  the  more  his  riches  grew, 

The  more  he  pined  away. 
Until,  at  last,  his  work  was  stopped, 

And  the  ploughman,  where  was  he  1  — 
Down  in  the  furrow,  alas  !  he  dropped, 

As  dead  as  dead  could  be  ! 

MORAL. 
Though  good  is  gold,  to  have  and  hold, 

My  story  makes  it  clear 
Who  sells  himself  for  sordid  pelf 

Has  bought  it  much  too  dear ! 


THE   ROSE   AND   THE   FAIRY. 

AN    ORIENTAL   TALE. 

A  TINY  Fairy,  of  the  sort 

Who  love  in  flowery  fields  to  sport, 

One  dewy  eve  espied  a  Rose 

So  fair  and  fragrant,  straight  he  goes 

And  nestles  in  her  bosom  ;  dips 

Deep  in  her  leaves  his  elfin  lips, 

And  sucks  the  virgin  honey  thence ; 

Regaling  thus  his  dainty  sense 

Of  taste  and  odor  rare,  until 

The  Sybarite  has  drunk  his  fill ! 

"  Sweet  blossom  !  "  sighed  the  grateful  Fay, 

"  Thy  bounty  I  would  fain  repay. 

The  fairest  flowers  that  deck  the  field 

Or  garden,  all  to  thee  must  yield 


96         THE  KOSE  AND  THE  FAIRY. 

In  loveliness ;  but  that  the  Queen 

Among  her  subjects  may  be  seen 

E'en  in  the  dark  and  envious  night 

(That  hides  thy  beauty  from  the  sight), 

This  little  Lantern  shall  be  thine 

To  show,  at  night,  thy  form  divine  !  " 

With  modest  thanks  the  Rose  receives 

The  Glow-worm's  light  upon  her  leaves, 

Then  turns  to  list  a  thrilling  lay 

That  witched  her  maiden  heart  away ! 

For  Philomela  filled  the  grove, 

Just  then,  with  such  a  song  of  love 

For  "  Rosa,  fairest  of  the  fair," 

The  maid  was  won,  ere  half  aware 

The  singer,  while  he  bent  to  bless 

The  trembler  with  a  soft  caress, 

Had  snatched  her  lamp,  —  the  rogue  !  and  gone 

And  left  her  in  the  dark  —  alone  ! 

L'ENVOI. 

The  Glow-worm  lantern  (we  are  told 
By  wise  expositors)  is  gold ; 
Which  serves  to  set  in  fairest  light 
The  charms  that  else  were  lost  to  sight. 


THE  ROSE  AND  THE  FAIRY.         97 

Moreover,  it  is  plain  to  see 

The  cunning  Nightingale  is  he, 

The  smooth-tongued  knave,  whose  wicked  art 

For  lucre  cheats  the  loving  heart, 

That,  like  poor  Rose,  is  doomed  to  prove 

How  Craft  may  feign  the  voice  of  Love  ! 


THE    TWO    SPARROWS. 

FROM   THE   FRENCH. 

Two  sparrows,  votaries  of  Love, 

The  Mars  and  Venus  of  the  grove, 

Had  been,  for  years,  such  constant  mates, 

You  would  have  sworn  the  very  Fates 

Were  impotent  to  break  the  bond 

That  joined  a  pair  so  true  and  fond. 

Together  still  they  sought  their  food ; 

Together  played  in  field  or  wood ; 

Together  built  the  cosey  nest 

That  served  for  shelter  and  for  rest ; 

Together  fought  the  feathered  foes 

With  whom  they  came  to  words  or  blows ; 

In  fine,  they  lived,  as  lovers  ought, 

Without  a  single  selfish  thought, 


THE  TWO  SPARROWS.  99 

Save  such  as  might  concern  the  twain, 
Their  mutual  joy  or  mutual  pain. 

At  last,  one  day,  they  chanced  to  get 
Their  feet  entangled  in  a  net, 
(A  vagrant  boy  had  spread  the  snare 
To  catch  and  keep  the  pretty  pair  !) 
And  soon,  despite  their  noisy  rage, 
They  both  were  prisoned  in  a  cage ; 
Where  —  much  I  grieve  the  tale  to  tell  — 
A  sorry  scandal  now  befell : 
They  scold,  recriminate,  and  fight, 
Like  arrant  foes,  from  morn  till  night ; 
Until,  at  length,  the  wretched  birds 
In  cruel  acts  and  bitter  words 
The  very  furies  emulate,  — 
And  all  their  love  is  turned  to  hate  ! 

L'ENVOI. 

Full  many  a  couple  come  to  strife 
And  hatred  in  connubial  life, 
Whose  days  of  courtship  promised  fair 
As  those  of.  this  unhappy  pair ; 
But,  like  the  sparrows  in  my  tale, 
When  trouble  comes,  their  tempers  fail ; 


100  THE  TWO  SPARROWS. 

They  blame  each  other  for  the  fate 
Which  both  should  strive  to  mitigate  ; 
With  patience  helping  to  endure 
The  ills  that  kindness  fails  to  cure  ! 


LOVE  AND    CARE. 

AN   ALLEGORY. 

A  YOUTH  was  travelling  on  a  summer's  day, 

When  suddenly  a  stranger 
Appeared  before  him,  saying,  "  Sir,  your  way 

Is  rough  and  full  of  danger ; 

"And  I  —  you  Ve  heard  of  me ;  my  name  is  Care  — 

Intend,  for  your  protection, 
To  dog  your  steps,  and  watch  you,  everywhere, 

With  keen  but  kind  inspection  !  " 

A  surly  wight  he  seemed  ;  and  so  the  lad, 

Who  wished  not  his  assistance, 

• 

Stept  off  with  quickened  pace;  while,  slow  and  sad, 
Care  followed  at  a  distance, 


102  LOVE  AND  CARE. 

And  soon  the  youth  espies  along  the  way, 
Tripping  in  wanton  measure, 

A  dashing  damsel,  very  fine  and  gay ; 

Her  name  (she  said  was  Pleasure. 

"  Come  !  follow  me  ! "  the  merry  maiden  cried, 
With  peals  of  silver  laughter ; 

"  I  will,  —  I  will !  "  the  joyful  youth  replied, 
And  gayly  followed  after. 

Alas  !  she  led  him  such  a  crazy  dance, 

He  presently  grew  tired,  — 
And  stopt,  at  length,  —  unwilling  to  advance 
Through  paths  so  much  bemired. 

To  Pleasure's  ways  no  longer  now  inclined, 

He  offered  small  resistance 
When  Care  came  up  (for  he  was  close  behind) 

And  tendered  his  assistance. 

But  soon  escaping  from  his  hated  guide, 
He  spied  a  pensive  maiden 

Of  wondrous  beauty,  —  by  a  fountain's  side,  — 
With  sprigs  of  myrtle  laden. 


LOVE  AND  CARE.  103 

"  0  Love  !  "  he  cried,  (for  truly  it  was  she  !) 

"  I  beg  your  kind  endeavor 
From  this  detested  Care  to  set  me  free, 

And  keep  me  so  forever !  " 

"  Nay !  "  said  the  maid ;  "  and  yet  my  votaries  swear, 

My  charms  are  so  beguiling, 
That  in  my  cheering  presence  even  Care 

Has  got  a  trick  of  smiling  !  " 


DEATH    INSURANCE. 

A   FABLE. 

A  MOUNTEBANK  whose  life  displayed 

Uncommon  genius  in  the  trade 

Of  getting  much  while  giving  naught 

(Except  a  deal  of  knavish  thought), 

Gave  out  through  all  the  country  round 

That  he  the  magic  art  had  found 

Of  teaching  Eloquence  to  all 

Who  chose  to  pay,  (the  fee  was  small !) 

Indeed,  the  rogue  declared,  his  plan 

Would  educate  the  dullest  man, 

Nay,  e'en  a  horse  or  ox  or  ass, 

Till  he  in  speaking  would  surpass 

Immortal  Tully  !  and  would  show 

All  modern  arts  that  lawyers  know, 


DEATH  INSURANCE.  105 

Besides,  to  grace  a  brilliant  speech. 
"  All  this  I  undertake  to  teach 
The  merest  dunce,  —  or  else,"  he  said, 
"  The  forfeiture  shall  be  my  head  !  " 

Of  course  so  marvellous  a  thing 
Soon,  through  the  courtiers,  reached  the  king ; 
Who,  having  called  the  charlatan 
Into  his  presence,  thus  began  : 
"  Well,  Sir  Professor,  I  have  heard 
Your  boasts,  and  take  you  at  your  word. 
Between  us  be  it  now  agreed 
That  to  my  stable  you  proceed 
At  once,  and  thence  a  donkey  take, 
Of  whom  —  't  is  bargained  —  you  shall  make 
An  orator  of  fluent  speech ; 
Or,  failing  thus  the  brute  to  teach, 
You  shall  be  hanged  till  you  are  dead  ! " 
"  A  bargain,  Sire  !  "  the  fellow  said  ; 
"  And  ten  years'  time  shall  be  allowed ; 
It  is  but  fair."     The  monarch  bowed. 
"  And  now  my  fee  be  pleased  to  pay  !  " 
Then  takes  the  gold  and  goes  away. 

A  courtier  whom  he  chanced  to  meet, 
A  fortnight  later,  in  the  street, 


106  DEATH  INSURANCE. 

Began  the  fellow  to  deride 
About  his  bargain,  —  "  Faith  !  "  he  cried, 
"  A  fine  agreement  you  have  made  ! 
I  mean  to  see  the  forfeit  paid ; 
The  art  of  rhetoric  to  teach, 
Of  course  you  '11  make  a  gallows-speech  ! " 
"  Laugh  as  you  may,  my  merry  man  !  " 
Replied  the  cunning  charlatan  ; 
"  Although  my  wisdom  you  may  flout, 
I  know  quite  well  what  I  'm  about. 
If  in  the  years  allotted  I, 
The  king,  or  ass,  should  chance  to  die, 
Pray,  don't  you  see,  my  giddy  friend, 
The  bargain  finds  a  speedy  end  1 
My  fee  was  but  a  premium  paid 
To  one  in  the  insurance  trade. 
Of  one  or  other  of  the  three 
Ten  years  are  pretty  sure  to  see 
The  epitaph,  —  as  chances  fall ; 
I  take  the  hazard,  —  that  is  all !  " 


THE   CADI'S  STRATAGEM. 

A   TURKISH   TALE. 

A  PIOUS  widow's  cottage  chanced  to  stand 
Hard  by  the  Califs  palace  ;  and  he  sought, 

For  his  own  use,  to  buy  her  bit  of  land  : 

But  all  in  vain,  —  the  land  could  not  be  bought. 

"  It  was  my  husband's  home,"  the  woman  said, 
"  Who,  dying,  left  it  to  his  loving  wife  ; 

Here  will  I  dwell,  in  honor  of  the  dead, 
Nor  with  it  part  until  I  part  with  life  ! " 

The  haughty  Califs  anger  knew  no  bound, 

That  thus  the  dame  withstood  him  to  his  face  ; 

By  force  he  razed  her  cottage  to  the  ground, 
And  built  a  grand  pavilion  in  its  place. 


108  THE  CADI'S  STRATAGEM. 

Straight  to  the  Cadi,  then,  the  widow  goes, 
And  asks  for  justice  at  his  Honor's  hand  : 

"  Leave  me  awhile,"  the  Cadi  said,  and  rose  ; 
"  Allah  is  great,  and  hears  your  just  demand." 

Then  with  an  empty  sack,  he  took  his  way 
To  the  pavilion,  where  he  chanced  to  meet 

The  Calif  at  the  door.  "  Great  Sire  !  I  pray 
A  little  of  the  earth  beneath  your  feet ; 

"  Enough  to  fill,"  the  Cadi  said,  "  this  sack." 
"  'T  is  granted  ! "  said  the  Calif,  laughing  loud. 

"  Now,  please  to  put  the  load  upon  my  back, 
Most  potent  Prince  ! "  —  and  reverently  bowed. 

"  Nay,"  said  the  Calif,  "  I  should  surely  fail 
Should  I  essay  to  lift  a  load  so  great ; 

For  such  a  task  my  strength  would  not  avail ; 
A  porter  would  be  crushed  beneath  the  weight  !  " 

"  Prince  of  Believers  !  "  said  the  Cadi,  then  ; 

"  If  this  be  even  so,  how  wilt  thou  fare 
In  the  great  day  of  final  judgment,  when 

The  weight  of  all  this  land  thou  hast  to  bear  1 " 


THE  CADI'S  STRATAGEM.  109 

The  Calif,  stricken  with  remorse,  exclaimed, 
"  Allah  is  Allah  !  —  be  his  name  adored  ! 

For  wit  and  wisdom  thou  art  justly  famed ; 
This  day  shall  see  the  widow's  land  restored. 

"  And  for  the  wrong  I  did  the  woman's  land, 
In  tearing  down  her  house,  I  thus  atone  : 

This  fine  pavilion  in  its  place  shall  stand ; 
For,  with  the  soil,  the  building  is  her  own  !  " 


THE  KING'S  ASTROLOGER. 

A   HISTOKICAL   INCIDENT. 

FEW  hearts,  however  brave  they  may  appear, 

Are  wholly  free  from  superstitious  fear  • 

Thirteen  at  table,  or  the  salt  upset, 

A  broken  looking-glass,  —  have  served  to  fret 

With  anxious  boding  many  a  mind  too  proud 

Its  secret  terrors  to  confess  aloud. 

A  veteran  soldier  has  been  known  to  quail 

At  the  white  phantom  in  a  nursery-tale  ; 

Or  list  the  "  death-watch,"  by  the  evening  fire, 

With  fears  that  roaring  guns  could  not  inspire, 

Though  Science  sought  his  quaking  nerves  to  rule, 

And  calm-eyed  Reason  called  the  trembler  "  fool !  " 

And  many  a  monarch,  boastful  of  his  power, 

And  proud  to  make  his  slavish  minions  cower 


THE  KING'S  ASTKOLOGEK.  Ill 

Beneath  his  royal  frown,  has  been  himself 
The  humblest  slave  of  some  imagined  elf 
Begot  of  Superstition's  baleful  night ; 
Some  wicked  gnome  or  diabolic  sprite, 
Malicious  fairy  or  vindictive  "  wraith," 
Who,  seeking  to  avenge  man's  broken  faith 
Or  haughty  scorn,  sets  all  his  plans  awry, 
Or  blasts  his  harvests  with  an  "  evil  eye  !  " 

When  Louis  the  Eleventh  ruled  in  France, 
His  favorite  Astrologer,  by  chance, 
Or  by  predicting  some  unwelcome  thing 
Concerning  state-affairs,  displeased  the  king 
So  much,  the  angry  monarch  (Rumor  saith) 
Resolved  to  put  the  hated  seer  to  death ; 
So,  summoning  the  man,  with  this  intent, 
He  mockingly  demanded  what  it  meant 
That  he  who  knew  the  mysteries  of  Fate, 
And  how  of  others'  death  to  fix  the  date, 
Should  be  so  ignorant  about  his  own  1 
The  Seer,  divining  from  his  sneering  tone 
The  monarch's  purpose,  answered,  "  I  foresee, 
Your  Majesty,  when  that  event  will  be  ; 
My  death  will  happen  (so  my  Star  assures) 
Three  days  — precisely  —  in  advance  of  yours  !  " 


112  THE  KING'S  ASTROLOGER. 

What  was  the  monarch's  answer  1     The  report 
Tells  only  this,  that  in  the  royal  court 
The  Seer  thenceforth  was  safely  lodged,  and  there 
To  his  life's  end  received  the  kindest  care  ! 


NO    ADMITTANCE. 

AN    ORIENTAL   TALE. 

A  WEALTHY  Syrian  —  Abdallah  by  name  — 

Fell  ill  and  died ;  and  when  his  spirit  came 

Before  the  gate  of  heaven,  the  angel  there 

(Who  stands  with  awful  and  majestic  air 

To  guard  the  Elysian  portal)  softly  said, 

"  Whence  comest  thou  1 "   The  Syrian  bowed  his  head, 

And  answered,  "  From  Aleppo."     "  Very  well,  — 

What  wert  thou  ?  "  asked  the  heavenly  sentinel. 

"  A  merchant."     "  True  ;  but  tell  me  all  the  rest," 

Replied  the  angel,  "  all,  —  the  worst  and  best ; 

From  me  —  reflect  —  no  act  can  be  concealed  ! " 

Whereat  the  merchant  all  his  life  revealed, 

And  nothing  hid  of  aught  that  he  had  done  : 

How  he  had  sailed  beneath  the  Indian  sun, 


114  NO  ADMITTANCE. 

In  quest  of  diamonds,  and  for  yellow  gold 
To  Northern  Asia  j  how  he  bought  and  sold 
By  the  Red  Sea,  and  on  the  wondrous  Nile, 
And  stormy  Persian  Gulf;  and  all  the  while 
Had  bravely  striven  to  keep  his  conscience  clear, 
Though  always  buying  cheap  and  selling  dear, 
As  merchants  use,  —  "  And  so  I  throve  amain," 
He  said,  "  for  many  a  year,  — nor  all  in  vain 
For  public  benefaction,  since  I  gave 
Freely  for  charity,  —  content  to  save 
Enough  for  me  and  mine,  —  a  handsome  store,  — 
And  that  is  all."     "  Nay,  there  is  something  more," 
The  angel  said.     "  Of  thy  domestic  life 
Thou  hast  not  spoken,  —  hadst  thou  not  a  wife  1  " 
"  Yes,"  said  the  Syrian,  with  a  sigh  that  spoke 
Of  many  a  groan  beneath  the  marriage  yoke. 
Whereat  the  angel  said,  "  By  God's  rich  grace, 
Come  in,  poor  suffering  soul !  and  take  thy  place 
Among  the  martyrs,  and  give  Heaven  thanks  ! " 
Now,  as  he  entered  the  celestial  ranks, 
Another  soul  approached  the  golden  door, 
Who,  having  heard  all  he  who  came  before 
Had  spoken,  and  observed  him  entering  in 
The  open  portal,  thought  himself  to  win 


NO  ADMITTANCE.  115 

Easy  admittance  ;  for  when  he  had  told 
His  history,  like  the  other,  he  made  bold 
To  add,  "  All  this,  Good  Angel,  is  most  true ; 
And,  as  for  wives,  I  've  had  no  less  than  two  !  " 
"  Twice  married  !  "  said  the  angel,  with  a  face 
Of  wrath  and  scorn,  —  "  unfortunates  have  place 
In  heaven's  blest  mansions ;  but,  by  Reason's  rules, 
(So  get  thee  hence  !)  there  is  no  room  for  fools  !  " 


THE    STRAY    CAMEL. 

AN   ARABIAN   TALE. 

A  CAMEL-DRIVER,  who  had  lost 

His  camel,  chancing  to  accost 

A  wandering  Arab  in  the  way, 

Said,  "  Sir  !  my  beast  has  gone  astray  ; 

And  went,  I  think,  the  road  you  came." 

"  Pray,"  said  the  stranger,  "  was  he  lame  '? " 

"  He  was,  indeed  !  "  was  the  reply. 

"  And,  tell  me,  had  he  lost  an  eye  1 " 

"  'T  is  even  so  ! "     "  And  one  front  tooth  1 " 

"  In  faith  !  —  you  speak  the  simple  truth  ! " 

"  And,  for  his  load,  was  there  a  sack 

Of  honey  on  the  camel's  back  1 " 

"  There  was,  indeed  !  —  now  tell  me,  pray, 

(Of  course  he  can't  be  far  away,) 


THE  STRAY  CAMEL.  117 

Just  when  and  where  the  brute  you  passed ; 
And  was  he  going  slow  or  fast  1 " 
"  Faith  !  "  said  the  stranger,  "  on  my  word, 
I  know  no  more  than  I  have  heard 
From  your  own  lips  !     Nor  in  my  way 
Have  I  observed,  for  many  a  day, 
A  camel  like  the  one  you  claim  ; 
I  swear  it,  in  the  Prophet's  name  !  " 

The  camel-driver  all  in  vain 
Besought  the  Arab  to  explain ; 
He  still  insisted,  as  before, 
That  of  the  beast  he  knew  no  more 
Than  from  the  owner  he  had  heard. 
Whereat  the.  camel-driver,  stirred 
With  wrath,  expressed  his  firm  belief 
This  knowing  Arab  was  a  thief; 
Then  to  the  Cadi  off  he  went, 
And  told  the  tale.     His  Honor  sent, 
And  brought  the  stranger  into  court. 
"  You  hear  this  worthy  man's  report," 
The  Cadi  said,  "  of  what  occurred  ; 
And  still  you  answer  not  a  word, 
'Save  that  his  beast  you  never  saw. 
Allah  is  great !  and  law  is  law  ! 


118  THE  STRAY  CAMEL. 

How  know  you,  then,  that  he  was  lame  ? " 

"  By  this,  — that  where  the  camel  came, 

Upon  the  sand  one  footprint  lagged, 

Which  showed  one  foot  the  camel  dragged." 

"  'T  is  well  explained  ;  now  tell  me  why 

You  said  the  camel  lacked  an  eye  ? 

And  from  his  jaw  one  tooth  had  lost  1 " 

"  By  this,  —  that  nowhere  had  he  crossed 

The  road  to  browse  the  other  side  ; 

And,  furthermore,  I  plainly  spied 

Where'er  his  teeth  had  chanced  to  pass, 

A  narrow  line  of  standing  grass, 

Which  showed,  as  clear  as  truth  is  truth, 

The  camel  had  one  missing  tooth  ! " 

"  And  how  about  the  honey  1 "     "  Well,  — 

It  surely  was  n't  hard  to  tell 

The  nature  of  the  camel's  load, 

W^hen,  gathered  all  along  the  road, 

A  thousand  bees  —  "     "  There,  that  will  do," 

The  Cadi  said  ;  "  the  case  is  through 

And  you  're  discharged  !     But  let  me  hint, 

(A  lesson  plain  as  any  print,) 

A  deal  of  trouble  may  arise 

At  times  from  being  overwise  !  " 


THE   FIVE   KNAVES. 

AN    ORIENTAL   TALE. 

ONCE  on  a  time,  in  Indostan, 
A  thief  conceived  a  cunning  plan 
(So  potent  is  the  voice  of  Hope) 
To  save  his  throttle  from  the  rope, 
Though  now  the  day  was  drawing  nigh 
When  he  by  law  was  doomed  to  die. 
He  bade  the  jailer  tell  the  King- 
He  fain  would  show  a  wondrous  thing, 
A  precious  secret  fairly  worth 
The  ear  of  any  prince  on  earth. 

And  now  the  culprit,  being  led 
Into  the  royal  presence,  said, 
"  This  golden  coin  which  here  you  see, 
If  planted,  will  become  a  tree 


120  THE  FIVE  KNAVES. 

Whose  fruit,  increased  a  hundred-fold, 
Will  be  —  like  this  —  the  purest  gold. 
I  pray  your  Majesty  to  try 
If  this  be  true  before  I  die." 
With  this,  the  King  and  courtiers  went 
Into  the  garden  with  intent 
To  plant  the  curious  coin  of  gold  ; 
But  now,  when  all  was  ready,  "  Hold  !  " 
Exclaimed  the  thief, —  "this  hand  of  mine 
Would  surely  spoil  our  whole  design. 
The  hand  that  plants  the  gold  must  be 
(Else  all  is  nought)  entirely  free 
From  stain  of  fraud ;  and  so  I  pray 
Your  Gracious  Majesty  will  lay 
•         The  seed  in  earth."    "  Yes,  —  no,  — in  sooth 
The  King  replied,  "  for  in  my  youth 
I  pilfered  from  my  sire ;  some  stain, 
For  all  my  sorrow,  may  remain. 
My  good  Prime  Minister  is  here  ; 
His  hand,  no  doubt,  is  wholly  clear 
Of  any  taint."     "  Nay,"  he  replied, 
"  That 's  more  than  I  can  well  decide ; 
As  Tax-Receiver  —  now  —  I  may 
Have  kept  a  trifle.     So  I  pray 


THE  FIVE  KNAVES.  121 

To  be  excused,  for  prudence'  sake, 

And  let  our  Commissary  take 

The  coin  in  hand.     Sure  that  were  best ; 

For  he,  no  doubt,  can  stand  the  test." 

"  Faith  !  "  said  the  Commissary,  "  I 

Would  rather  not.     I  can't  deny 

My  good  intent ;  but  since  I  pay 

Large  sums  of  money  every  day 

For  soldiers,  sailors,  and  a  herd 

Of  spies,  —  I  would  n't  give  my  word 

I  have  not  kept  a  small  amount, 

Not  entered  in  my  book  account. 

Since  any  error  —  e'en  the  least  — 

Would  spoil  the  charm,  pray  let  the  Priest 

Proceed  to  plant  the  coin  of  gold." 

"  Nay,  that  I  fear  were  over-bold  ; 

Despite  my  prayers  and  pious  zeal," 

Replied  his  Reverence,  "I  deal 

In  tithes  and  sacrificial  dues ; 

And  so  I  beg  you  will  excuse 

My  sharing  in  a  work  like  this 

Where  nothing  must  be  done  amiss." 

"Faith  ! "  said  the  thief,  "since  no  man  here 
(As  we  have  learned)  is  wholly  clear 


122  THE  FIVE  KNAVES. 

Of  knavish  tricks,  I  ask  you  whether 
We  should  not  all  be  hung  together  1 " 
The  monarch,  laughing,  made  reply, 
"  Why,  yes,  if  every  rogue  must  die  ! 
Well,  since  we  five  are  knaves  confest, 
I  pardon  you,  —  and  spare  the  rest !  " 


THE  AMBITIOUS  VINE. 

AN   APOLOGUE    OF    THE   ALGIC    INDIANS. 

A  VINE  that  stood  beside  a  thriving  Oak 

Grew  weary  of  the  labor 
Of  self-support,  and  thus  she  plainly  spoke 

Unto  her  stronger  neighbor  :  — 

"  I  prithee  bend  your  handsome  trunk  to  me, 

My  noble  forest-brother ; 
That,  mutually  embracing,  we  may  be 

Supporters  of  each  other." 

"  Nay,"  said  the  tree,  "  I  was  not  made  to  bend ; 

I  'm  strong  and  self-reliant, 
As  oaks  are  wont,  —  but  you,  my  pretty  friend, 

Are  twenty  times  as  pliant  I 


124  »      THE  AMBITIOUS  VINE. 

"  So  clasp  your  slender  arms  around  me,  dear ; 

And  we  will  grow  together, 
High  as  yon  azure  cloud,  nor  ever  fear 

The  roughest  wind  or  weather  !  " 

"  Nay,  nay,"  replied  the  foolish  Vine,  "  I  hate 

To  seem  so  much  your  debtor  : 
You  do  the  twining,  now,  and  I'll  be  straight ; 

I  'd  like  it  vastly  better  !  " 

"  Nature  wills  otherwise,"  the  Oak  replied, 

"  However  you  may  grumble ; 
The  moment  such  a  silly  plan  were  tried, 

Together  we  should  tumble  ! 

"Come  you  to  me  ;  and,  taking  Nature's  course, 

We  '11  keep  our  proper  places  : 
I  to  the  twain  will  give  my  manly  force, 

And  you  your  maiden  graces. 

"  But  if,  perverse,  you  try  to  live  alone, 

With  none  to  hold  and  cherish 
Your  slender  form,  before  you  're  fairly  grown, 

You  certainly  will  perish. 


THE  AMBITIOUS  VINE.  125 

"  Or  if,  instead  of  fondly  clinging  fast 

To  one  who  would  protect  you, 
You  flirt  with  others,  —  all  the  trees  at  last 

Will  scornfully  reject  you." 

«  i  seej  —  I  see  !  "  exclaimed  the  musing  Vine, 

"  The  weaker  must  be  nourished  "  ; 
Then  clasped  the  Oak  with  many  a  graceful  twine, 

And  so  they  grew  and  flourished  ! 


THYRSJS    AND    AMARANTH. 

THYRSIS,  enamored  of  a  maid,  — 

Fair  Amaranth,  —  a  trick  essayed 

To  test  the  way  her  fancy  ran  ; 

And  thus  the  simple  swain  began  : 

"  0  Amy  !  if  you  only  knew, 

And,  like  myself,  could  feel  it  too, 

A  certain  malady  that  harms 

Young  fellows,  while  it  sweetly  charms, 

I  'm  sure  you  'd  wish  your  gentle  breast 

Were  of  the  same  disease  possest. 

Its  name  you  may  have  chanced  to  hear ; 

Tray  let  me  breathe  it  in  your  ear,  — 

'T  is  LOVE  !  my  darling  !  —  that 's  the  word  !  " 

"  'T  is  one,"  quoth  she,  "  that  I  have  heard, 


THYRSIS  AND  AMARANTH.  127 

And  think  it  pretty  ;  pray  reveal 

Exactly  how  it  makes  you  feel ; 

And  tell  me  plainly  all  the  signs 

By  which  its  presence  one  divines." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  boy,  "  its  very  woes 

Are  ecstasies  !  —  the  patient  goes 

With  laggard  step  and  longing  looks, 

And  murmurs  love  to  babbling  brooks, 

And  all  the  while,  in  every  place, 

Sees  naught  but  one  bewitching  face  ! 

There  is  a  shepherd-lad  —  suppose  — 

Whom  some  sweet  village  maiden  knows. 

She  fears  to  see  him ;  yet  would  she, 

If  she  might  choose,  no  other  see  ; 

If  she  but  hears  his  voice  or  name, 

Her  cheeks  are  flushed  with  scarlet  flame ; 

At  thought  of  him  she  heaves  a  sigh, 

Yet  cannot  guess  the  reason  why  —  " 

"  Nay,  — stop  !  "  cries  Amaranth,  "  I  ween 

I  know  the  malady  you  mean  ! 

Although  I  did  n't  know  its  name, 

I  warrant,  now,  't  is  just  the  same 

As  that  (I  hope  it  is  n't  wrong  !) 

I  've  felt  for  CLEDAMANT  so  long  ! " 


128  TIIYRSIS  AND  AMARANTH. 

<\ 

MORAL. 

Poor  Thyrsis  !     He  was  not  the  first, 
Nor  yet  the  latest,  who  has  shown 

A  rival's  interest  may  be  nursed 

By  one  who  seeks  to  serve  his  own  ! 


A    DOUBLE    DISTRESS. 

A   PERSIAN    TALE. 

THAT  blessings  lost,  though  hard  to  bear, 

Are  light  when  weighed  with  carking  care,  - 

Some  ill  whose  ever-goading  spite 

Affects  us  morning,  noon,  and  night,  — 

Sadi,  the  Persian  poet,  shows 

Most  humorously.     The  story  goes  — 

So  sings  the  bard  —  that,  on  a  time, 

Somewhere  within  the  Eastern  clime, 

A  worthy  gentleman,  whose  wife 

Took  sudden  leave  of  him  and  life, 

In  deepest  lamentation  fell 

For  the  dear  dame  whom  long  and  well 

The  man  had  loved,  —  as  well  might  be,  — 

For  she  was  good,  and  fair  to  see, 


130  A  DOUBLE  DISTKESS. 

And  crowned  with  every  winning  grace 
Of  mind  and  soul  to  match  her  face. 

What  much  his  weight  of  woe  increased, 
The  mother  of  the  dear  deceased, 
A  meddling  beldame,  old  and  cross, 
Remained  to  help  him  mourn  his  loss. 
From  morn  to  night  the  vixen's  tongue 
He  heard,  and  groaned  ;  and  still  she  clung 
Leech -like  unto  the  widowed  spouse ; 
For,  by  the  daughter's  nuptial  vows, 
The  woman  said,  it  was  agreed  — 
Dared  he  dispute  it  1  —  no,  indeed  !  — 
Her  mother  in  the  house  should  stay, 
A  guest  —  unto  her  dying  day  ! 
In  vain  the  hapless  man  essayed 
To  buy  her  off;  in  vain  portrayed 
The  pleasures  of  a  trip  to  Rome  ; 
She  still  "  preferred  to  stay  at  home  !  " 

One  day,  amidst  the  deafening  din 
Of  angry  tongues,  some  friends  -came  in, 
With  sympathetic  voice  to  pay 
Condolence,  in  the  common  way  ; 
And,  hinting  at  his  recent  loss, 
Hoped  Heaven  would  help  him  bear  his  cross. 


A  DOUBLE  DISTRESS.  131 

"  Thanks  !  "  said  the  mourner,  with  a  sigh, 

"  My  loss  is  great,  —  I  can't  deny  ; 

But  for  affliction,  I  must  say, 

What  God  was  pleased  to  take  away 

A  less  calamity  I  find 

Than  what  he  chose  to  leave  behind  !  " 


THE   TWO   KINGS. 

AN    ALLEGORY. 

WHEN  mighty  Jove  had  fashioned  human  kind, 
And  named  the  earth  to  be  their  dwelling-place, 

(So  in  an  Eastern  apologue  we  find) 
He  sent  two  ministers  to  rale  the  race. 

He  gave  command  to  Pleasure  and  to  Pain 
(Of  heavenly,  one,  and  one  of  hellish  birth) : 

"  Henceforth,  my  minions,  be  it  yours  to  reign 
As  sovereign  lords  o'er  all  the  sons  of  earth." 

And  soon  it  was  agreed  between  the  twain 
A  separate  dominion  would  be  best : 

The  vicious  only  should  be  ruled  by  Pain  ; 
And  Pleasure  be  the  master  of  the  rest. 


THE  TWO  KINGS.  133 

A  proper  plan  enough  it  seemed,  at  first ; 

But  soon  they  found,  despite  each  outward  sign, 
That  —  save,  indeed,  between  the  best  and  worst  — 

None  less  than  Jove  could  fairly  draw  the  line. 

They  found  —  to  make  discrimination  nice  — 
To  classify  the  race  defied  their  skill  : 

The  virtuous  all  had  more  or  less  of  vice  ; 

The  vicious  showed  some  sparks  of  virtue  still. 

The  generous  man  was  "  fashed  wi'  worldly  lust  "  ; 

The  devotee  was  full  of  saintly  pride  ; 
The  chaste  was  covetous  ;  and  none  so  just 

But  they  had  still  some  little  sin  to  hide. 

And,  looking  sharply  at  the  darker  part, 
Not  one  among  them  all  was  wholly  bad  j 

Here  was  a  sot  who  had  a  generous  heart, 
And  there  a  thief  who  saved  a  drowning  lad. 

Virtue  and  Vice  !  —  how  easily  they  trace 
The  larger  forms  of  each  ;  but  to  assign 

Their  just  proportion  in  a  special  case,  — 

Who  but  the  gods  could  safely  draw  the  line  1 


'134  THE  TWO  KINGS. 

And  so  it  was  agreed  (lest  strife  befall 

From  such  confusion)  each,  in  turn,  should  reign 

Pleasure  should  have  dominion  over  all ; 

And  all,  at  times,  should  feel  the  rule  of  Pain. 

And  still,  as  erst,  they  rule  the  human  race,  — 
Pleasure  and  Pain,  —  in  short,  alternate  sway  ; 

And  whichsoe'er  may  show  his  regal  face, 
We  know  his  fellow  is  not  far  away  ! 


JUPITER  AND   HIS   CHILDREN, 

A   CLASSIC    FABLE. 

ONCE  on  sublime  Olympus,  when 
Great  Jove,  the  sire  of  gods  and  men, 
Was  looking  down  on  this  our  Earth, 
And  marking  the  increasing  dearth 
Of  pious  deeds  and  noble  lives, 
While  vice  abounds  and  meanness  thrives,  - 
He  straight  determined  to  efface 
At  one  fell  swoop  the  thankless  race 
Of  human  kind.     "  Go  !  "  said  the  King 
'  Unto  his  messenger,  "  and  bring 
The  vengeful  Furies;  be  it  theirs, 
Unmindful  of  their  tears  and  prayers, 
These  wretches  —  hateful  from  their  birth 
To  wipe  from  off  the  face  of  earth  ! " 


136  JUPITER  AND  HIS  CHILDREN. 

The  message  heard,  with  torch  of  flame 
And  reeking  sword,  Alecto  came, 
And  by  the  beard  of  Pluto  swore 
The  human  race  should  be  no  more ! 

But  Jove,  relenting  thus  to  see 
The  direst  of  the  murderous  three, 
And  hear  her  menace,  bade  her  go 
Back  to  the  murky  realms  below. 
"Be  mine  the  cruel  task  !  "  he  said, 
And,  at  the  word,  a  bolt  he  sped, 
Which,  falling  in  a  desert  place, 
Left  all  unhurt  the  human  race  ! 

Grown  bold  and  bolder,  wicked  men 
Wax  worse  and  worse,  until  again 
The  stench  to  high  Olympus  came, 
And  all  the  gods  began  to  blame 
The  monarch's  weak  indulgence,  —  they 
Would  crush  the  knaves  without  delay  ! 

At  this,  the  Ruler  of  the  air 
Proceeds  a  tempest  to  prepare, 
Which,  dark  and  dire,  he  swiftly  hurled 
In  raging  fury  on  the  world ! 
But  not  where  human  beings  dwell 
(So  Jove  provides)  the  tempest  fell. 


JUPITER  AND  HIS  CHILDREN.  137 

And  still  the  sin  and  wickedness 
Of  men  grew  more,  instead  of  less ; 
Whereat  the  gods  declare,  at  length, 
For  thunderbolts  of  greater  strength, 
Which  Vulcan  soon,  at  Jove's  command, 
Wrought  in  his  forge  with  dexterous  hand. 
Now  from  the  smithy's  glowing  flame 
Two  different  sorts  of  weapons  came  : 
To  hit  the  mark  was  one  designed ; 
As  sure  to  miss,  the  other  kind. 
The  second  sort  the  Thunderer  threw, 
Which  not  a  human  being  slew ; 
But,  roaring  loudly,  hurtled  wide 
On  forest-top  and  mountain-side  ! 

MORAL. 

What  means  this  ancient  tale  1     That  Jove 
In  wrath  still  felt  a  parent's  love ; 
Whatever  crimes  he  may  have  done, 
The  father  yearns  to  spare  the  son. 


•    NOUS  ET  VOUS. 

A   GALLIC    FABLE. 

As  two  young  friends  were  walking  out,  one  day, 

(So  Florian  has  told,) 
They  chanced  to  see,  before  them,  in  the  way 

A  well-filled  purse  of  gold. 
"By  Jove  !  a  pretty  prize  for  us  !  "  cried  Ned; 

While  Tom  with  hasty  hand 
Was  pocketing  the  purse.     "  For  us  ?  "  he  said ; 

"  I  do  not  understand 
Your  meaning,  sir ;  for  me,  sir  !  that 's  the  word  !  " 

(Joy  beaming  in  his  face.) 
"  Considering  how  the  incident  occurred, 

*  Us '  is  n't  in  the  case  ! " 
"  Well,  —  be  it  so  ! "  the  other  made  reply; 

"  Although  't  is  hardly  fair ; 


NOUS  ET  VOUS.  139 

I  am  not  anxious,  sir,  —  indeed,  not  I, 

Your  treasure-trove  to  share  ! " 
Just  then,  two  robbers  plainly  they  espied 

In  waiting  to  accost 
Our  travellers,  —  when  Tom,  a-tremble,  cried, 

"  Ah  !  brother,  we  are  lost !  " 
"  We  1"  answered  Ned.    "  0,  we,  have  naught  to  fear: 

'T  is  you  the  rogues  must  face ; 
You,  —  you,  my  boy  !     To  me  't  is  very  clear 

1  We '  is  n't  in  the  case  !  " 
And  at  the  word  away  the  fellow  ran, 

When,  rushing  from  the  wood, 
The  thieves  attacked  the  unresisting  man, 

Who,  pale  with  terror,  stood 
The  while  they  robbed  him  of  his  precious  purse, 

Too  weak  for  flight  or  strife,  — 
No  friend  to  aid  him  —  and  (0  sad  reverse  !) 

In  peril  of  his  life  ! 

MORAL. 

So  wags  the  world  !  —  where  oft  the  selfish  "  nous  " 

Seems  fated  to  forget 
The  time  may  come  when  e'en  the  humblest  "vous" 

May  pay  a  friendly  debt. 


140  NOUS  ET  VOUS. 

The  prosperous  man  who  but  himself  regards, 
May  chance  to  change  his  tone, 

When  Fortune  leaves  him  to  his  losing  cards, 
Unpitied  and  alone  ! 


THE  FAIRY  AND   THE   THREE  WISHES. 

AN    ORIENTAL   TALE. 

A  FAIRY  of  the  friendly  sort 
Who  serve  mankind  as  if  in  sport, 
Know  how  to  wash  and  sweep  a  room 
With  twirling  mop  and  whisking  broom, 
In  garden  work  are  skilful  too, 
And  apt  in  all  that  huswives  do ; 
But  if  you  cross  them,  lo  !  they  cease 
Their  industry  with  strange  caprice, 
Or,  more  perversely,  quickly  spoil 
The  product  of  their  former  toil,  — 
A  fairy  of  this  curious  kind 
(Which  still  in  merry  books  we  find) 
Had  aided  long  a  farmer's  skill 
His  land  to  plough  and  plant  and  till, 


142          THE  FAIRY  AND  THE  THREE  WISHES. 

Until  the  honest  yeoman  grew 
Not  rich,  indeed,  but  well-to-do, 
Thanks  to  the  faiiy,  —  nimble  sprite  ! 
Who  served  his  master  day  and  night 
(For  still  the  fay  his  vigils  kept 
While  master,  man,  and  mistress  slept), 
Until  at  last  the  vagrant  mood 
That  ever  rules  the  goblin-brood 
Was  his  no  more  :  he  fain  would  dwell 
WTith  those  whom  he  has  served  so  well ; 
For  to  the  giver  kindness  makes 
A  joy  surpassing  his  who  takes. 

But  now,  alas  !  (and  hence  we  see 
That  fays  have  griefs  as  well  as  we,) 
An  order  from  the  Fairy-King 
Came,  with  an  escort,  charged  to  bring 
The  farmer's  favorite,  that  he 
Might  straight  attend  his  Majesty 
At  Land's-End  !  —  he  would  have  it  so, 
And  so,  perforce,  the  fay  must  go. 
But  ere  he  left  his  rustic  life, 
He  bade  the  farmer  and  his  wife 
Three  several  wishes  to  express. 
"Just  three,"  he  said,  "no  more,  —  nor  less, 


THE  FAIRY  AND  THE  THREE  WISHES.          143 

And  these  will  I  at  once  fulfil, 

Whate'er,  my  friends,  may  be  your  will ! " 

The  first  was  sure  an  easy  task ; 
For  wealth  —  vast  wealth,  of  course,  they  ask. 
It  comes !  and  with  it  all  the  train 
Of  ills  that  vex  the  heart  and  brain 
Of  those  who  pay  the  taxes  which 
(Beside  the  king's  !)  annoy  the  rich,  — 
Thieves,  swindlers,  beggars,  borrowers,  all 
That  plunder  parlor,  kitchen,  hall, 
By  various  arts,  —  force,  fraud,  and  lies  ! 
"  Take  all  away  !  "  the  farmer  cries  ; 
"  The  poor  are  happier  than  they 
Who  to  such  harpies  fall  a  prey ; 
0,  give  us  back,  dear  sprite,  once  more 
Contentment  and  our  humble  store." 
Two  wishes  gone,  —  to  bring  the  man 
And  dame  just  where  they  first  began  ! 
At  thought  of  this  they  laughed  outright ; 
So  did  the  fairy  (sprightly  sprite  !) 
But  ere  he  went,  with  friendly  voice, 
He  helrjed  them  to  a  better  choice  : 
'T  was  WISDOM  !  riches  of  the  mind, 
Surpassing  all  that  misers  find 


144          THE  FAIRY  AND  THE  THREE  WISHES. 

In  money-bags ;  abundance  rare 
And  void  of  grief  and  carking  care ; 
Wealth  —  if  it  bear  the  genuine  seal  — 
Which  none  can  borrow,  beg,  or  steal ! 


THE  RIVAL   QUEENS. 


AN    APOLOGUE. 

A  DAMASK  Rose  and  a  Lily  white, 

Each  lovely  as  ever  was  known, 
Grew  doubly  red  and  pale  with  spite 

Concerning  the  floral  throne. 

For  some  declared  the  Lily  was  queen ; 

While  others,  as  firm  as  those, 
Said,  "  No  !  just  look  at  her  languid  mien  ; 

Our  sovereign  shall  be  the  Rose  /" 

"  A  queen,"  said  the  friends  of  the  ruddy  Rose, 
"  The  royal  purple  should  wear"; 

"A  queen,"  'twas  answered,  "every  one  knows, 
Should  —  like  the  Lily  —  be  fair  !  " 


146  THE  KIVAL  QUEENS. 

The  quarrel  was  bitter  and  long  and  loud, 

And  all  for  battle  were  fain ; 
No  wonder,  I  ween,  the  Rose  grew-  proud ; 

No  wonder  the  Lily  grew  vain  ! 

And  so,  for  many  a  hateful  day 

And  many  an  angry  week 
They  tossed  their  heads  in  a  scornful  way, 

And  both  refused  to  speak. 

Until,  one  day,  with  the  golden  morn, 

The  slumbering  Rose  awoke, 
And,  all  ashamed  of  her  recent  scorn, 

To  her  rival  kindly  spoke. 

"0  lovely  Lily  !  "  exclaimed  the  Rose  ; 

"  What  boots  it,  lady,  that  we 
Should  stand  and  stare  like  foolish  foes, 

Who  were  wont  good  friends  to  be  3 " 

"  Ah  !   why,  indeed  1 "  the  Lily  replied, 
As  toward  the  other  she  bends 

With  a  graceful  nod,   "  'T  is  pity  that  pride 
Should  sever  the  best  of  friends  ! 


THE  EIVAL  QUEENS.  147 

"  And  I  've  been  thinking,"  the  Lily  went  on, 

"  That  not  by  arrogant  claims 
A  true  nobility  best  is  shown, 

But  in  noble  acts  and  aims." 

"  And  I  've  been  thinking,"  the  Rose  returned, 

"  For  all  our  pride  of  race, 
In  every  flower  may  be  discerned 

Some  sweet,  peculiar  grace. 

"  Though  Rose  be  red,  and  Lily  be  fair, 

With  all  the  charms  we  've  got, 
The  humblest  flower  in  field  or  bower 

Hath  some  that  we  have  not !  " 


PROVIDENCE  IMPARTIAL. 

A  FABLE. 

AN  old  Hellenic  saw  declares 
The  gods,  who  govern  men's  affairs 
Impartial  (grumble  as  we  may), 
For  all  their  favors  make  us  pay 
According  to  their  special  worth  : 
Wealth,  honor,  beauty,  noble  birth, 
Has  each  its  price  ;  and  still  the  higher 
The  gift,  the  more  the  gods  require  ! 
Hence,  let  not  foolish  pride  inflate 
The  seeming  favorites  of  Fate. 
A  Fir-tree,  very  large  and  tall, 
That  grew  beside  a  Bramble  small, 
Was  boasting  of  his  strength  and  size  : 
"  What  houses  I  would  make  !  "  he  cries ; 


PROVIDENCE  IMPARTIAL.         149 

"  While  you  are  simply  good  for  naught, 

Unworthy  of  the  Woodman's  thought !  " 

"  True  ! "  said  the  Bramble ;  "  but  reflect !  — 

If  he  were  here,  would  you  elect 

(Think  of  his  axe,  and  tell  me,  sir) 

To  be  a  Bramble  or  a  Fir  ? " 


THE  VANITY  OF   HUMAN  WISHES. 

"  GIVE  me  your  soldiers'  bracelets ;  all 
Their  splendid  jewels,  great  and  small, 
And  straight  your  army  shall  be  led 
"Within  the  city  walls."     So  said 
Tarpeia,  while  the  Sabine  waits 
In  siege  before  the  Roman  gates. 

Whereat  each  soldier,  filing  past 
The  traitress,  on  her  body  cast 
His  heavy  bracelet ;  till  at  last 
The  shining  heap  became  so  great, 
She  fell  and  died  beneath  their  weight. 

Even  so  it  fares  with  mortals,  who 
With  headlong  eagerness  pursue 
Ambition,  pleasure,  wealth,  or  fame  ; 
The  glittering  prize  at  which  they  aim 
Comes  often,  like  Tarpeia's  fate, 
To  bruise  and  crush  them  with  its  weight. 


JUST    ONE    DEFECT. 

A    PERSIAN    FABLE. 

WHO  buys  a  house,  however  fine 

In  architectural  design, 

And  howsoever  vast  and  grand 

The  prospect  which  it  may  command, 

May  very  prudently  explore 

Concerning  one  condition  more  : 

So  Sadi  sings,  and  tells  of  one, 

Somewhere  beneath  the  Persian  sun, 

Who  thought  to  buy  a  mansion  where 

A  foul-mouthed  broker  praised  the  air 

And  all  things  else,  with  eager  voice  : 

"  You  could  not  make  a  better  choice," 

The  fellow  bawled.     "  Now,  look  ye  here  ! 

I  've  lived  next  door  this  twenty  year, 


152  JUST  ONE  DEFECT. 

And  know  the  house  is  fairly  worth 
Ten  times  the  price  !     There  's  not  on  earth 
A  finer  building  !     Just  inspect 
The  place,  and  mention  one  defect ! " 
"  Why,  truly,"  said  the  man,  "  I  see 
But  one."     "  Indeed  !  what  may  it  be  1 " 
"  The  house  I  should  not  reckon  dear, 
I  think,  —  if  yours  were  not  so  near  !  " 


LOVE    AND    POETRY. 

A   FABLE. 
I. 

To  Psyche,  when  her  maiden  heart 
Was  fancy-free,  the  Muses  went 

To  teach  her  the  poetic  art ; 

But  all  in  vain  their  kind  intent ; 

She  answered,  she  did  not  desire 

To  meddle  with  poetic  fire  ! 

n. 
But  Cupid  came,  and  won  the  maid 

(Psyche  —  "  the  soul "  of  all  things  good) 
Her  husband's  teaching  she  obeyed, 

And  caught  from  him  the  lyric  mood ; 
And  ever  since  —  as  all  agree  — 
Love  is  the  soul  of  Poesy  ! 


REASON  VERSUS  CUSTOM. 

AN    APOLOGUE. 

ONCE  on  a  time,  a  man  of  sterling  sense 

At  Fashion's  whims  and  shams  took  such  offence, 

He  vowed,  at  last,  that  not  another  day 

Would  he  submit  to  her  despotic  sway ; 

Thenceforth,  he  said,  do  others  as  they  might,  — 

He  meant,  for  one,  to  follow  Reason's  light ! 

"  A  brave  resolve  !  "  his  laughing  neighbors  cried. 

"Well,  well,"  he  answered,  "you  shall  see  it  tried 

In  practice;  thus  —  when  Fashion  disagrees 

With  Reason  (as  in  life  one  daily  sees) 

I  mean,  henceforth,  in  all  things,  great  and  small, 

As  you  shall  note,  to  follow  Reason's  call." 

And  so  it  came  to  pass ;  from  that  day  forth, 

He  judged  all  things  by  their  intrinsic  worth 


REASON  VERSUS  CUSTOM.  155 

Or  seeming  fitness  ;  furnished  his  abode, 

And  wore  his  clothes,  regardless  of  the  mode ; 

All  things  discarding  as  a  foolish  waste 

Which  seemed  discordant  with  the  laws  of  taste, 

Or  clearly  served  no  profitable  end ; 

Whate'er,  in  brief,  his  reason  might  commend 

Of  old  or  new  he  took  into  his  plan 

Of  living,  — like  a  reasonable  man ; 

In  Fashion's  mere  despite  rejecting  naught, 

Nor  at  her  mere -behest  accepting  aught 

Which  Reason  interdicted.     Who  can  say 

He  was  not  wise,  or  name  a  wiser  way  ? 

A  scheme  like  this  should  surely  prosper  wellj 

But  if  you  ask  me  truthfully  to  tell 

The  sequel,  —  I  must  candidly  confess 

'T  was  what  the  reader  may  have  chanced  to  guess. 

With  every  step  our  bold  reformer  took, 

By  just  so  much  —  consider  —  he  forsook 

The  common  path.     "  The  oddest  man  in  town  !  " 

His  neighbors  said,  at  first  —  then  set  him  down 

For  "  half-demented  !  "     By  and  by,  they  vowed 

Such  wild,  strange  actions  should  not  be  allowed ; 

The  man  was  clearly  "  going  to  the  bad." 

At  last,  his  dear  relations  proved  him  mad, 


156  REASON  VERSUS  CUSTOM. 

In  open  court,  and  shut  him  in  a  cell ; 

AVhere  long  he  lived  with  lunatics,  to  tell 

His  doleful  tale  ;  and  earnestly  advise 

Against  the  foolishness  of  being  wise 

Where  folly  is  the  mode  !  —  "I  tried  to  steer 

My  course  by  'Reason,  and  she  brought  me  here ! " 


THE   SULTAN  AND   THE  EX-VIZIER. 

A   COLLOQUY  :    FROM   THE   PERSIAN. 
SULTAN. 

SINCE  you  turned  Dervish,  long  ago, 
By  true  report  your  life  I  know, 
And  high  advance  in  wisdom's  lore ; 
And  much,  believe  me,  I  deplore 
The  day  I  lost  —  by  envious  Fate  — 
My  good  Prime  Minister  of  State. 

DERVISH. 

Thanks  !  gracious  Sire  !  the  life  I  live 
Has  more  of  peace  than  power  can  give ; 
Here,  in  my  cloister,  I  have  learned 
Contempt  of  rank  ;  and  all  I  earned 
Of  power  and  pelf  in  your  employ 
Would  poorly  stead  my  present  joy. 


158  THE  SULTAN  AND  THE  EX- VIZIER. 

SULTAN. 

No  doubt !  —  and  as  for  power  and  pelf, 

I  'd  like  a  quiet  life  myself; 

And  yet  your  wisdom  I  would  fain 

Employ  to  serve  my  realm  again ; 

The  truly  wise  are  truly  great, 

And  such  alone,  should  rule  the  state. 

DERVISH. 

'T  is  true,  your  Majesty ;  and  yet, 
I  would  not  pay  the  hateful  debt : 
You  call  me  wise ;  well  —  be  it  so  ; 
But  being  wise,  I  must  forego 
An  office  which  (am  I  too  bold  ?) 
A  wise  man  would  not  choose  to  hold  ! 


THE    TWO    FRIENDS. 

A   RABBINICAL   TALE. 

GOOD  Rabbi  Nathan  had  rejoiced  to  spend 

A  social  se'nnight  with  his  ancient  friend, 

The  Rabbi  Isaac.     In  devout  accord 

They  read  the  Sacred  Books,  and  praised  the  Lord 

For  all  his  mercies  unto  them  and  theirs ; 

Until,  one  day,  remembering  some  affairs 

That  asked  his  instant  presence,  Nathan  said, 

"  Too  long,  my  friend,  (so  close  my  soul  is  wed 

To  thy  soul,)  has  the  silent  lapse  of  days 

Kept  me  thy  guest ;  although  with  prayer  and  praise 

The  hours  were  fragrant.     Now  the  time  has  come 

When,  all-reluctant,  I  must  hasten  home 

To  other  duties  than  the  dear  delights 

To  which  thy  gracious  friendship  still  invites." 

"Well,  be  it  so,  if  so  it  needs  must  be," 

The  host  made  answer;  "be  it  far  from  me 


160  THE  TWO  FRIENDS. 

To  hinder  thee  in  aught  that  Duty  lays 
Upon  thy  pious  conscience.     Go  thy  ways ; 
And  take  my  blessing  !  —  but,  0  friend  of  mine, 
In  His  name  whom  thou  servest,  give  me  thine ! " 
"Already,"  Nathan  answered,  "had  I  sought 
Some  fitting  words  to  bless  thee ;  and  I  thought 
About  the  palm-tree,  giving  fruit  and  shade  ; 
And  in  my  grateful  heart,  0  friend,  I  prayed 
That  Heaven  be  pleased  to  make  thee  even  so ! 
0  idle  benediction  !  —  Well  I  know 
Thou  lackest  nothing  of  all  perfect  fruit 
Of  generous  souls;  or  pious  deeds  that  suit 
With  pious  worship.     Well  I  know  thine  alms 
In  hospitable  shade  exceed  the  palm's ; 
And,  for  rich  fruitage,  can  that  noble  tree, 
With  all  her  opulence,  compare  with  thee  1 
Since,  then,  0  friend,  I  cannot  wish  thee  more, 
In  thine  own  person,  than  thy  present  store 
Of  Heaven's  best  bounty,  I  will  even  pray 
That  —  as  the  palm-tree,  though  it  pass  away, 
By  others,  of  its  seed,  is  still  replaced  — 
So  thine  own  stock  may  evermore  be  graced 
With  happy  sons  and  daughters,  who  shall  be, 
In  wisdom,  strength,  and  goodness,  like  to  thee ! " 


PERSEVERE   AND   PROSPER. 

AN    ARABIAN    TALE. 

"  To  the  manly  will  there  's  ever  a  way  !  " 

Said  a  simple  Arab  youth ; 
"And  I  'm  going  to  try,  this  very  day, 

If  my  teacher  tells  the  truth  : 
He  's  always  saying,  —  the  good  old  man,  — 

'  Now,  please  remember,  my  dear, 
You  are  sure  to  win,  whatever  you  plan, 

If  you  steadily  persevere  ! ' 

"  I  mean  to  try  it,  —  upon  my  life  ! 

If  I  go  through  fire  and  water ; 
And,  since  I  wish  to  marry  a  wife, 

I  '11  have  the  Calif's  daughter  ! " 
So  off  to  the  Vizier  straight  he  goes, 

Who  only  laughed  at  the  lad  ; 
And  said  him  "  Nay,"  —  as  you  may  suppose, 

For  he  thought  the  fellow  was  mad ! 


162  PERSEVERE  AND  PROSPER. 

And  still  for  many  and  many  a  day 

He  came  to  plead  his  case, 
But  the  Vizier  only  answered  "  Nay," 

And  laughed  him  in  the  face. 
At  last,  the  Calif  came  across 

The  youth  in  the  Vizier's  hall, 
And,  asking  what  his  errand  was, 

The  Vizier  told  him  all. 

"  Now,  by  my  head  !  "  the  Calif  said, 

"  'T  is  only  the  wise  and  great 
A  Calif's  daughter  may  ask  to  wed, 

For  rank  with  rank  must  mate ; 
Unless,  mayhap,  some  valiant  deed 

May  serve  for  an  equal  claim 
(For  merit,  I  own,  should  have  its  meed, 

And  princes  yield  to  Fame). 

"  In  the  Tigris  once  a  gem  was  lost, 
'T  was  ages  and  ages  since, 

A  Ruby  of  wondrous  size  and  cost, 
And  fit  for  the  noblest  prince  ; 

That  gem,  my  lad,  must  surely  be 
Somewhere  beneath  the  water,  — 


PERSEVERE  AND  PROSPER.  163 

Go  find  it,  boy,  and  bring  it  to  me ; 
Then  come  and  marry  my  daughter  ! " 

"And  so  I  will !  "  the  lad  replied, 

And  off  to  the  river  he  ran  ; 
And  he  dips  away  at  the  foamy  tide, 

As  fast  as  ever  he  can  : 
With  a  little  cup  he  dips  away  ; 

Now,  what 's  the  fellow  about  ? 
He  's  going  to  find  the  gem,  some  day, 

By  draining  the  Tigris  out ! 

And  still  he  dips  by  day  and  night, 

Till  the  fishes  begin  to  cry, 
"  This  fellow  is  such  a  wilful  wight, 

He  '11  dip  the  river  dry  !  " 
And  so  they  sent  their  monarch  to  say 

(A  wise  and  reverend  fish), 
"  Now  why  are  you  dipping  our  water  away  1 

And  what  do  you  please  to  wish  ] " 

"  I  want  the  Ruby,  sir,"  he  cried. 

"  Well,  please  to  let  us  alone, 
And  stop  your  dipping,"  the  fish-king  cried, 

"  And  the  gem  shall  be  your  own  ! " 


164  PERSEVERE  AND  PROSPER. 

And  he  fetched  the  Ruby,  of  wondrous  size, 

From  out  the  foamy  water ; 
And  so  the  lad  obtained  his  prize, 

And  married  the  Calif's  daughter ! 

L'ENVOI. 
This  pleasant  story  was  meant  to  teach 

That  pluck  is  more  than  skill ; 
And  few  are  the  ends  beyond  the  reach 

Of  a  strong,  untiring  will ! 


LAKE    SARATOGA. 

AN    INDIAN    LEGEND. 

A  LADY  stands  beside  the  silver  lake. 

"What,"  said  the   Mohawk,    "wouldst  thou  have 

me  do  ? " 
"  Across  the  water,  sir,  be  pleased  to  take 

Me  and  my  children  in  thy  bark  canoe." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  Chief,  "  thou  knowest  not,  I  think, 
The  legend  of  the  lake,  —  hast  ever  heard 

That  in  its  wave  the  stoutest  boat  will  sink, 
If  any  passenger  shall  speak  a  word  1 " 

"  Full  well  we  know  the  Indian's  strange  belief," 

The  lady  answered,  with  a  civil  smile ; 
"  But  take  us  o'er  the  water,  mighty  Chief; 

In  rigid  silence  we  will  sit  the  while." 


1C6  LAKE  SARATOGA. 

Thus  they  embarked,  but  ere  the  little  boat 
Was  half  across  the  lake,  the  woman  gave 

Her  tongue  its  wonted  play  —  but  still  they  float, 
And  pass  in  safety  o'er  the  utmost  wave ! 

/ 
Safe  on  the  shore,  the  warrior  looked  amazed, 

Despite  the  stoic  calmness  of  his  race  ; 
No  word  he  spoke,  but  long  the  Indian  gazed 
In  moody  silence  in  the  woman's  face. 

"  What  think  you  now  1 "  the  lady  gayly  said  ; 

"  Safely  to  land  your  frail  canoe  is  brought ! 
No  harm,  you  see,  has  touched  a  single  head ! 

So  superstition  ever  comes  to  naught ! " 

Smiling,  the  Mohawk  said,  "  Our  safety  shows 
That  God  is  merciful  to  old  and  young ; 

Thanks  unto  the  Great  Spirit !  —  well  he  knows 
The  pale-faced  woman  cannot  hold  her  tongue  !  " 


THE    IMPAETIAL    JUDGE. 

A   PERSIAN    TALE. 

To  good  Ben  Asher  —  of  immortal  lame  — 

In  eager  haste  a  worthy  subject  came, 

And,  bowing  low  before  the  Sultan,  cried, 

"  Prince  of  Believers !  who  has  ne'er  denied 

Impartial  justice  to  the  meanest  slave, 

Some  fitting  punishment  I  humbly  crave 

On  one  who  in  my  house  has  wrought  a  shame ; 

A  deed  of  violence  I  need  not  name 

In  further  speech ;  for,  Sire  !  the  fearful  fact 

Was  seen  by  those  who  seized  him  in  the  act ! " 

"  Go,  bring  him  here  !  "  the  Sultan  said;  "but  first 

Put  out  the  lights.     The  villain's  face  accurst 

I  would  not  see."     Now,  when  all  this  was  done, 

The  Sultan,  standing  by,  commanded  one 

To  seize  and  stab  the  culprit  to  the  heart ! 


168  THE  IMPAETIAL  JUDGE. 

"  Now  light  the  lamps  !  "     The  Sultan  then  (apart 
To  his  Vizier,  the  while  his  hands  he  raised 
Devoutly  heavenward)  said,  "  God  be  praised 
For  this  that  I  behold  !  "     The  Vizier  asked, 
What  favor  Heaven  had  done  in  this,  that  tasked 
The  Sultan's  gratitude  ?     "  I  feared  my  son," 
Ben  Asher  said,  "  this  dreadful  deed  had  done  ; 
And,  meaning  still  that  justice  should  prevail, 
And  fearing  lest  my  doting  heart  should  fail, 
I  durst  not  see  the  man  till  he  was  dead  ; 
Judge,  then,  my  joy,"  the  trembling  Sultan  said, 
"That,  looking  on  the  wretch  so  justly  slain, 
I  find,  thank  Heaven  !  my  terror  was  in  vain  !  " 


THE   ELEPHANT'S   SERMON. 


YIUARTE/ 


IN  olden  times,  when  —  it  is  said  — 
The  humblest  of  the  brute  creation 

(Though  not  in  school  or  college  bred) 
Possessed  the  art  of  conversation ; 

The  Elephant,  as  chief  High- Priest, 
Of  brutes  the  proper  censor  morum, 

Assembled  every  bird  and  beast, 

And  plainly  laid  their  faults  before  'em. 

Some  were  of  vanity  accused 

(Though  none  by  name  the  priest  addresses), 
And  some  their  talents  had  abused 

By  indolence  or  wild  excesses ; 
1  See  note  on  page  269. 


170  THE  ELEPHANT'S  SERMON. 

And  some  were  charged  with  envious  minds, 
And  some  with  foolish  ostentation ; 

And  not  a  few  the  censor  finds 
Convict  of  wanton  depredation. 

And  some,  the  Elephant  declares, 
Are  basely  cruel  and  malicious  ; 

Some  fail  to  mind  their  own  affairs ; 
And  most,  in  some  respect,  are  vicious. 

The  faithful  Hound,  the  trusty  Horse, 
The  constant  Dove,  the  modest  Linnet, 

The  Sermon  hear  without  remorse  ; 
Nay,  find  a  deal  of  pleasure  in  it ! 

In  brief,  the  best  of  all  the  crowd 

Are  charmed  to  hear  the  wise  prelection ; 

The  others  frown,  or  rave  aloud, 

Or  hang  thejr  heads  in  deep  dejection. 

The  Wolf  and  Tiger  howl  in  wrath, 
To  hear  the  parson's  faithful  chiding ; 

The  Serpent  hisses  in  his  path  ; 

The  Worm  goes  wriggling  to  his  hiding. 


THE  ELEPHANT'S  SERMON.  171 

The  Wasp  and  Hornet  buzz  their  spite ; 

The  Monkey  mocks  with  hideous  grinning ; 
The  Fox  goes  sneaking  out  of  sight, 

To  wait  another  chance  for  sinning. 

"  Ah,  well !  "  the  Elephant  exclaims, 

"  Though  ill  enough  ye  seem  to  bear  it,  — 

(Remember,  I  have  called  no  names;) 

Whom  the  coat  fits,  may  take  and  wear  it !  " 


THE   CONNOISSEURS. 

YRIARTE. 

WITHIN  a  wine-vault  once  arose 
A  quarrel  —  so  the  story  goes  — 
Among  the  Bacchanalian  crowd, 
So  fierce  and  bitter,  long  and  loud, 
It  fairly  threatened  broken  laws, 
And  bloody  noses,  —  all  because 
Two  parties  held  conflicting  views 
About  the  fittest  way  to  choose 
Their  beverage  !     Some  stoutly  hold, 
"  A  first-rate  tap  is  always  old ; 
At  least,  a  thousand  proofs  attest 
The  oldest  always  is  the  best. 
Not  till  the  cunning  spiders  spin 
A  million  lines  across  the  bin, 
Do  men  of  sense  imbibe  the  juice ; 


THE  CONNOISSEURS.  173 

Then,  only  then,  't  is  fit  for  use, 
Pure,  mellow,  fragrant,  ripe ;  in  fine, 
Worthy  the  glorious  name  of  wine  !  " 
The  others  just  as  roundly  swear, 
"  New  wine  is  best.     Age  "  (they  declare) 
"  Is  far  more  apt  to  mar  than  mend 
Good  wine  (whatever  fools  pretend) 
And  then  't  is  oft  a  mere  device, 
Got  up  by  rogues  to  raise  the  price  ! " 
While  thus  with  wrath  that  grew  to  rage, 
Their  foolish  feud  the  wranglers  wage, 
Up-spoke  a  stranger,  from  Navarre  : 
"  Cease,  gentlemen  \  your  wordy  war  ! 
I  've  tippled  wine  of  every  sort, 
Canary,  Malta,  Xeres,  Port, 
And  many  a  famous  tap  beside ; 
All  brands  and  ages  have  I  tried,  — 
The  white,  the  red,  the  old,  the  new, 
The  good,  the  bad,  the  false,  the  true ; 
I  've  drunk  in  cellar,  booth,  and  inn ; 
I  've  drunk  from  bottle,  cask,  and  skin ; 
And  if  there  be  a  judge  of  wine, 
To  know  the  fair,  the  foul,  the  fine, 
In  glass  or  bumper,  cup  or  can,  — 


174  THE  CONNOISSEURS. 

By  jolly  Bacchus  !  I  'm  the  man  ! 
Crede  experto  !     Take  my  word, 
For  all  the  nonsense  you  have  heard 
About  the  charm  of  '  old '  or  '  new,' 
'T  is  trial  only  tests  the  true  ! 
Old  wine  may  still  be  wretched  stuff, 
And  new  wine  excellent  enough 
For  men  or  gods !     No  rule  on  earth, 
Save  drinking,  can  decide  its  worth. 
Give  me  good  wine,  and  I  engage 
I  '11  not  inquire  about  its  age  ! " 

L'ENVOI. 

In  Books  and  Art  some  bid  us  seek 
The  highest  worth  in  the  "  antique  " ; 
While  other  critics  (just  as  wise) 
No  genius  but  the  "modern"  prize  : 
In  judging  either,  I  protest 
I  think  the  toper's  rule  is  best ! 


THE    ROYAL    CONCERT. 

YRIARTE. 

THE  animals  once,  —  so  the  legends  report,  — 
To  honor  the  Lion,  their  popular  king, 

A  concert  proposed,  in  his  majesty's  court, 
At  which  all  the  brutes  were  invited  to  sing. 

Not  all,  —  I  should  say,  as  a  lover  of  truth,  — 
For  somehow  or  other  the  managers  missed 

The  principal  matter,  and  managed,  in  sooth, 
To  have  the  best  singers  left  out  of  the  list ! 

Not  a  Nightingale,  Wood-thrush,  or  Blackbird  was  in  it ; 

Nay,  even  the  Lark  and  Canary  were  slighted ; 
No  mention  was  made  of  the  musical  Linnet  ; 

But  all  of  the  others  were  warmlv  invited  ! 


176  THE  ROYAL  CONCERT. 

There  was  plenty  of  jealousy,  you  may  be  sure, 
And  wrangling  enough,  —  as  is  always  the  case 

When  the  cleverest  maestro  attempts  to  secure 
For  each  of  his  singers  the  properest  place. 

'T  is  settled  at  last ;  the  rehearsal  is  done ; 

And  now  for  the  Concert  the  vocalists  meet, 
With  no  fear  of  failure,  for  every  one 

What  he  's  wanting  in  talent  makes  up  in  conceit ! 

A  couple  of  Hornets  the  tenor  essayed ; 

The  Crickets  attempted  the  treble  and  alto; 
The  basso  (of  course)  by  a  Donkey  was  brayed ; 

While  to  Locusts  and  Frogs  was  assigned  the  con 
tralto  ! 

The  singers  commence  !  —  but  no  answering  cheers 
Reward  their  endeavors,  —  the  audience  swore 

(While  some  ran  away  and  some  stopt  up  their  ears) 
That  never  was  music  so  murdered  before  ! 

At  this,  the  performers,  abating  their  noise, 

Sought,  each  for  himself,  some  ingenious  excuse ; 

And  straight  on  his  fellows  with  vigor  employs 
The  fiercest  reproaches  and  foulest  abuse. 


THE  KOYAL  CONCERT.  177 

The  Frogs  said  the  Crickets  were  quite  out  of  place  ; 

Such  villanous  treble  they  never  had  heard ! 
The  Crickets  replied  by  denouncing  the  bass  ; 

A  Donkey  sing  bass  ?  —  it  was  truly  absurd  ! 

"  T  was  the  fault  of  the  Frogs!"  was  the  Donkey's  reply; 

"  'T  is  clearly  the  Hornets'  !  "  the  Locusts  exclaim ; 
The  Hornets  returned,  "  'T  is  a  thundering  lie  ! " 

And  on  their  accusers  retorted  the  blame. 

Then  the  King  of  the  Beasts,  who  could  bear  it  no  more, 
Looked  down  from  his  throne,  with  a  growl  and  a  grin, 

And  thus  spoke  his  mind,  in  a  terrible  roar, 

Which  silenced  at  once  their  obstreperous  din  :  — 

«  Go  !  —  out  of  my  hearing,  ye  ignorant  crew ; 

Ere  it  came  to  the  trial,  each  impudent  wight 
Was  boasting  the  wonderful  things  he  could  do ; 

Quick !  out  of  my  hearing  and  out  of  my  sight ! " 

MORAL. 
So  in  human  affairs,  when  pretenders,  who  once 

In  arrogant  boasting  had  vied  with  each  other, 
Meet  a  common  disaster,  —  then  every  dunce 

Excuses  himself  by  accusing  another  ! 


THE    BARNYARD    CRITICS. 

YRIARTE. 

A  PIG  and  Sheep  together  slept 

In  the  same  farm-yard ;  and  with  these 
A  gallant  Cock  his  vigils  kept,  — 

Who,  with  his  fellows,  dwelt  in  peace. 

"  A  pleasant  sort  of  life  is  this," 

The  Porker  said.     "  Say,  Madam  Sheep  I 
Is  not  the  highest  earthly  bliss 

To  lie  at  ease,  and  eat  and  sleep  ? 

"  For  me,  I  think  the  perfect  leisure 

And  luxury  in  which  we  live, 
Worth  more  than  all  the  active  pleasure 

That  men  or  gods  have  power  to  give  ! " 


THE  BARNYARD  CRITICS.  179 

The  woolly  dame  has  naught  to  say,  — 
Too  meek  to  answer ;  though  she  tries, 

While  listening  in  a  civil  way, 

To  look  (in  vain  !)  extremely  wise  ! 

But  Chanticleer,  who  chanced  to  hear 
These  sage  reflections,  cocked  his  eye, 

Gave  a  shrill  crow  his  throat  to  clear, 
And  thus  to  Piggie  made  reply  :  — 

"  A  sleepy  life,  I  must  confess, 

Were  very  little  to  my  taste  ; 
To  live  —  like  you  —  in  idleness, 

Of  time  is,  sure,  a  foolish  waste. 

"  To  rule  the  roost,  and  strut  about, 

That 's  happiness,  in  my  belief. 
A  little  sleep  is  well,  no  doubt ; 

But,  for  one's  health,  it  should  be  brief. 

"  In  fact,  I  've  tried  it ;  and  I  find 

One's  slumbers  should  be  always  light ; 

Sleep  surely  stupefies  the  mind, 

While  watching  makes  it  clear  and  bright." 


180  THE  BARNYARD  CRITICS. 

While  thus  they  argue,  loud  and  long, 
The  patient  Sheep  has  listened  well ; 

But  which  is  right  and  which  is  wrong 
Is  something  more  than  she  can  tell. 

She  little  dreams  the  wranglers  draw 
(Like  other  critics,  great  and  small) 

Each  from  himself  the  narrow  law 
By  which  he  seeks  to  govern  all ! 


THE    FIGHTING    COCKS. 

YRIARTE. 

A  FINE  old  cock  —  a  cock  renowned, 
In  brief,  for  many  a  mile  around 
His  native  farm-yard  —  came  at  length 
With  a  young  cock  to  pit  his  strength  : 
A  callow  chick,  who  fought  so  well, 
Despite  the  odds,  that  —  strange  to  tell 
The  elder  was  compelled  to  yield, 
And,  fairly  vanquished,  leave  the  field 
And  laurel  to  his  youthful  foe, 
Who  now  set  up  a  lusty  crow, 
As  dunghill  victors  always  will, 
In  pride  of  courage,  strength,  or  skill. 

All  breathless  with  the  battle's  heat, 
The  other  sought  a  safe  retreat, 


182  THE  FIGHTING  COCKS. 

Where  thus  he  gave  reflection  tongue  : 

"  Well  fought  —  by  Jove  !  —  for  one  so  young ! 

Give  him  the  proper  age  and  height, 

He  'd  make,  no  doubt,  a  pretty  fight ! " 

No  more  our  philosophic  bird 
With  his  late  foe  was  seen  or  heard 
In  close  debate,  for  well  he  knows 
That  words,  at  last,  may  come  to  blows ; 
And  with  a  chick  so  fierce  and  tough, 
One  trial  clearly  was  enough ! 

But  soon  it  chanced  occasion  lent 
A  turn  to  give  his  temper  vent ; 
A  neighbor  truculent  and  bold 
Despite  his  years  (for  he  was  old, 
And  long  had  gloried  in  the  praise 
Of  brave  exploits  in  former  days), 
Our  hero  forced  into  a  fight, 
And,  rallying  with  all  his  might, 
Soon  drove  him  fairly  from  the  ground  ! 

Alone  at  last,  —  he  looked  around, 
And  seeing  that  the  coast  was  clear, 
That  none  the  monologue  might  hear, 
Thus  to  himself  expressed  his  mind  : 
"  What  unexpected  things  we  find ! 


THE  FIGHTING  COCKS.  183 

For  such  an  old  historic  cock 

How  well  he  bore  the  battle  shock  ! 

How  venerable  age  appears  ! 

And  so  I  spared  him  —  for  his  years  ! " 

MORAL. 

How  shrewdly  men  contrive  to  hide, 
E'en  from  themselves,  their  wounded  pride  ! 


THE  NIGHTINGALE  AND  THE  ORGAN. 

YRIARTE. 

A  Nightingale  who  chanced  to  hear 
An  Organ's  deep  and  swelling  tone, 

Was  wont  to  lend  a  careful  ear, 

That  so  she  might  improve  her  own. 

.     One  evening,  while  the  Organ's  note 

Thrilled  through  the  wood,  and  Philomel 
Sat  tuning  her  melodious  throat 
To  imitate  its  wondrous  swell, 

A  twittering  Sparrow,  hopping  near, 

Said,  "  Prithee,  now,  be  pleased  to  state 

What  from  those  wooden  pipes  you  hear 
That  you  can  wish  to  imitate  1 


THE  NIGHTINGALE  AND  THE  ORGAN.          185 

"  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say, 

Whatever  the  stupid  thing  can  do 

To  please  us,  in  a  vocal  way, 

That  very  Organ  learned  from  you  ! 

11  Of  all  sweet  singers  none  is  greater 
Than  Philomel ;  but,  on  my  word  ! 

To  imitate  one's  imitator,  — 

Can  aught  on  earth  be  more  absurd  1 " 

"  Nay,"  said  the  Nightingale,  "  if  aught 
From  me  the  Organ  ever  learned, 

By  him  no  less  have  I  been  taught, 
And  thus  the  favor  is  returned. 

"  Thus  to  my  singing  —  don't  you  see  1 

Some  needed  culture  I  impart ; 
For  Nature's  gifts,  as  all  agree, 

Are  finest  when  improved  by  Art  1 " 

MORAL. 

Whate'er  the  foolish  Sparrow  thought, 
The  Nightingale  (so  Wisdom  votes) 

Was  wise  in  choosing  to  be  taught 
E'en  by  an  Organ's  borrowed  notes. 


186         THE  NIGHTINGALE  AND  THE  ORGAN. 

And  hence  the  Student  may  obtain 
Some  useful  rules  to  guide  his  course  : 

Shun  self-conceit ;  nor  e'er  disdain 
Instruction  from  the  humblest  source  ! 


THE   LIZARDS. 

YRIARTE. 

A  FAMOUS  Naturalist,  whose  knife 
Made  cruel  work  with  insect  life, 
Dissecting  muscle,  vein,  and  nerve, 
Remorseless,  —  with  intent  to  serve 
The  cause  of  Science,  and  no  thought 
Of  all  the  suffering  he  wrought,  • — 
Two  lizards  in  his  garden  caught, 
And  straight  proceeded  to  dissect 
The  biggest  one,  and  then  inspect 
The  severed  parts,  head,  tail,  and  skin, 
And  all  the  mysteries  within ; 
And  as  each  part  is  made  to  pass 
Beneath  his  microscopic  glass, 
He  takes  his  pen,  and  in  a  book 


188  THE  LIZARDS. 

Records  each  scientific  look, 
For  future  use ;  then  takes  his  pen, 
And  with  his  glass  begins  again. 
Weary  at  length,  he  stops  to  hear 
Remarks  of  friends.     Some  only  sneer 
At  what  they  deem  mere  waste  of  time, 
If  not  —  for  cruelty  —  a  crime  ; 
While  others  marvel  much  to  learn 
(As  at  the  glass  they  take  their  turn) 
What  mighty  things  are  lodged  within 
The  compass  of  a  lizard's  skin  ! 
While  thus  they  talk  of  what  the  eye 
Of  Science  caused  them  to  descry 
In  the  dead  lizard,  sooth  to  say, 
His  living  brother  ran  away  ! 

Arrived  at  home,  he  quickly  sends 
An  invitation  to  his  friends 
To  come  and  hear  what  wondrous  things 
From  his  late  tour  the  traveller* brings  ; 
Then  tells  the  story  you  have  heard 
(Above),  omitting  not  a  word 
Of  all  that  to  his  friend  occurred. 
"  Strange  as  it  seems,"  the  lizard  cries, 
"  T  is  true  !  I  saw  it  with  these  eyes  ! 


THE  LIZARDS.  189 

Now  if  such  things  in  us  there  be 
As  men  of  Science  stare  to  see, 
And  straightway  write  the  items  down,  — 
Say,  shall  we  heed  the  stupid  clown 
Who  calls  us  lizards  '  vermin  '  1     Nay  ! 
Whatever  envious  folks  may  say, 
Vie  're  clearly  noble.     Let  us  claim 
The  rank  that  suits  the  lizard's  name  !  " 

MORAL. 
When  keen  Reviewers  criticise 

The  stuff  that  puny  authors  write, 
(Which  worms  alone  should  analyze,) 

They  only  give  the  fools  delight, 
Who  cry,  "  The  book  is  surely  great 
Which  so  much  interest  can  create  !  " 


FLINT    AND    STEEL. 

YRIARTE. 

THE  Flint  and  Steel  —  the  story  goes  — 

Old  friends  by  natural  relation, 
Fell  out,  one  day,  and,  like  two  foes, 

Indulged  in  bitter  altercation. 

"  I  'm  weary,"  said  the  angry  Flint, 
"  Of  being  beat ;  't  is  past  concealing ; 

Your  conduct  (witness  many  a  dint 
Upon  my  sides  !)  is  most  unfeeling. 

"  And  what  reward  have  I  to  show  1 
What  sort  of  payment  do  you  render 

To  one  who  bears  each  hateful  blow 

That  you  may  blaze  in  transient  splendor  1 ' 


FLINT  AND  STEEL.  19.1 

"  You  seem  to  think  yourself  abused," 
The  Steel  replied  with  proper  spirit ; 

"  But,  say,  unless  with  me  you  're  used, 
What  praise  of  service  do  you  merit  1 

"  Your  worth,  as  any  one  may  see 

(For  all  your  feeling  of  defiance), 
Is  simply  nought,  unless  with  me 

You  keep  your  natural  alliance." 

"True  !  "  said  the  Flint;  "but  there  's  no  call, 
Whatever  my  worth,  for  you  to  flout  it ; 

My  value,  sir  !  may  be  but  small ; 

But  think  what  yours  would  be  without  it !  " 

MORAL. 
The  writer  who  depends  alone 

On  genius,  hoping  to  be  able 
To  cope  with  scholars  fully  grown, 

May  profit  by  this  simple  fable. 

As  from  the  /Steel  no  fire  comes  forth, 
Until  it  feels  the  Flint's  abrasion ; 

So  genius  is  of  little  worth 

V\7ithout  the  aid  of  cultivation. 


THE    LACE-WEAVERS. 

YRIARTE. 

ONCE  in  Madrid  —  the  story  goes  — 
Between  two  artisans  arose 
A  question  of  such  special  weight, 
It  held  them  long  in  grave  debate, 
Though  each  —  't  is  only  fair  to  say  — 
Discussed  it  in  a  candid  way, 
Unlike  debaters  who,  in  sooth, 
Care  more  for  victory  than  truth. 

Both  men  were  weavers,  we  are  told  : 
One  made  galloons,  or  lace-of-gold ; 
The  other  lace-of-linen,  fine 
At  once  in  texture  and  design. 
"  Who,"  said  the  former,  "  would  suppose 
That  while  (as  everybody  knows) 


THE  LACE-WEAVERS.  193 

My  lace  of  purest  gold  is  wrought, 
For  vastly  less  it  may  be  bought 
Than  yours,  my  neighbor,  which,  instead 
Of  gold,  is  made  of  flaxen  thread  ? 
Pray  tell  me  why  (7  can't  divine) 
Yours  sells  for  thrice  as  much  as  mine  1 " 
"  Faith  ! "  said  the  other,  "  to  my  mind, 
The  reason  is  not  hard  to  find ; 
You  work  in  gold,  and  I  in  thread ; 
If,  saying  so,  the  whole  were  said, 
Your  lace  would  surely  far  exceed 
My  lace  in  value.     'T  is  agreed  ! 
You  work  in  gold  ;  I  grant  it,  —  still 
Your  best  galloons  show  little  skill 
Compared  with  what  the  eye  may  trace 
In  my  fine  webs  of  linen  lace ; 
Rich  workmanship,  my  worthy  friend, 
Gives  value  gold  can  never  lend ! " 

MORAL. 

Hence  critics,  who  are  fain  to  smile 
When  readers  praise  an  author's  style, 
As  if  the  matter  were  the  test 
Of  what  in  authorship  is  best, 


THE  LACE-WEAVERS. 


May  learn  how  much  the  writer's  art, 
By  style  and  finish  may  impart 
To  works  which  else  had  failed  to  claim 
The  worth  that  gives  undying  fame  ! 


THE    SHAM    LIBRARY. 

TBIABTE. 

ONCE,  in  Madrid,  there  dwelt  a  worthy  man, 
And  wealthy  too,  of  whom  't  was  truly  said 

His  house  —  the  best  the  architects  could  plan  — 
"Was  vastly  better  furnished  than  his  head  ! 

And  yet  one  room  this  splendid  dwelling  lacked 
A  wealthy  squire  should  have,  beyond  a  doubt ; 

To  wit,  a  Library,  —  a  thing  in  fact 

"  No  gentleman  can  fairly  live  without." 

So  said  a  neighbor,  adding  his  advice 

That  one  be  built  without  the  least  delay ; 

"And  let,"  he  said,  "the  room  be  large  and  nice ; 
By  Jove  !  I  woiild  n't  wait  another  day  !  " 


196  THE  SHAM  LIBRARY. 

"  Egad  ! "  he  answered,  "  I  must  find  a  spot 
Somewhere  about  the  house ;  of  course  I  know 

A  man  wants  books,  and  books,  sir,  shall  be  got ; 
If  not  for  use,  they  're  requisite  for  show  ! 

"  I  have  it  now  !  my  carpenter  shall  use 

What  space  he  chooses  in  the  northern  wing; 

One  sees  from  there  the  loveliest  of  views ; 
Faith  !  on  reflection,  it  is  just  the  thing ! 

"  I  '11  have  it  finished  in  the  finest  style ; 

Such  as  may  suit  a  gentleman's  abode ; 
With  doors  and  shelves  ('t  will  cost  a  pretty  pile  !) 

All  stained  and  gilded  in  the  latest  mode. 

"  And  then  I  '11  send  my  trusty  servant  Bob 
(An  honest  fellow  and  the  best  of  cooks, 

And  always  clever  at  a  tasty  job), 

By  careful  measurement,  to  buy  the  books." 

But  ere  the  work  was  done,  from  floor  to  shelf, 
The  owner,  pondering  on  the  great  expense 

Incurred  already,  said  within  himself, 

"  This  room,  egad  !  is  really  quite  immense ! 


THE  SHAM  LIBRAE Y.  197 

"  With  handsome  books  these  cases  to  supply 
Will  cost  a  sum  of  money  rather  tall ! 

But  since  I  merely  aim  to  please  the  eye, 
Pray,  what 's  the  use  of  real  books  at  all  1 

"A  thousand  gilded  backs  will  do  as  well, 
Lettered  to  look  like  volumes  all  a-row  ; 

Mere  wooden  backs  in  fact,  but  who  can  tell 
They  are  not  real,  I  should  like  to  know !  " 

So  said,  so  done ;  and  now  at  length  behold 

All  things  complete.     With  pride  the  owner  looks 

To  see  —  at  little  cost  of  precious  gold 

His  wooden  cases  filled  with  wooden  books ! 

MORAL. 

"  A  fool !  "  you  say,  "  to  spend  his  money  so ! " 

Well  —  not  a  very  Solomon,  indeed ; 
But  wiser,  sure,  than  they  who  buy  for  show 

The  costly  volumes  which  they  never  read  ! 


THE    GOAT    AND    THE    HORSE. 

YRIARTE. 

A  GOAT  who  lent  a  ravished  ear 

A  Fiddle's  harmony  to  hear,  — 

The  while  unconsciously  his  feet 

The  viol's  measures  gayly  beat,  — 

Unto  a  Horse,  who  near  him  stood, 

So  rapt  he  quite  forgot  his  food 

In  the  sweet  music  of  the  hour, 

(Such  was  the  player's  wondrous  power !) 

Thus,  when  the  witching  strains  were  done, 

A  boastful  monologue  begun  : 

"My  honest  neighbor,  do  you  know 

Whence  came  the  sounds  that  charmed  us  so  1 

The  viol  which  so  sweetly  sings 

Owes  all  its  music  to  the  Strings  ; 


THE  GOAT  AND  THE  HORSE.        199 

And  those  same  strings  —  be  pleased  to  note  — 

Came  from  the  bowels  of  a  Goat ! 

(A  mate  of  mine  you  may  have  seen 

With  me  upon  the  village  green ; 

Where,  side  by  side,  we  used  to  play 

Through  many  a  pleasant  summer's  day.) 

And  who  can  tell,  my  worthy  friend, 

But  /,  some  happy  day,  may  lend 

The  like  assistance  to  the  art 

Which  has  such  power  to  charm  the  heart  1 " 

"  True  !  "  said  the  Nag;  "but  not  alone 

Are  strings  required  to  give  the  tone 

The  viol  boasts ;  pray,  do  not  I 

From  my  long  tail  the  hairs  supply 

With  which  the  Bow  so  deftly  brings 

The  music  from  the  stupid  strings? 

The  cost  to  me  is  surely  small 

(A  little  fright,  —  no  pain  at  all). 

Then,  for  the  pleasure  that  I  give 

I  have  my  payment  while  I  live 

In  conscious  pride ;  while  you,  instead, 

Must  wait  for  yours  till  you  are  dead  ! " 


200  THE  GOAT  AND  THE  HORSE. 

MORAL. 

Some  authors  thus,  who  vainly  strive 
For  fame  while  they  are  yet  alive, 
Write  on,  in  hope  that  after  death 
Their  works  may  win  applauding  breath 


THE  TURKEY  AND  THE  CROW. 


TRIAKTE. 


A  POMPOUS  old  Turkey,  conceited  and  vain, 
As  deeming  himself  of  a  lordlier  breed 

Than  the  wandering  birds  of  the  forest  and  plain, 
Once  challenged  a  Crow  to  a  trial  of  speed. 

If  you  e'er  saw  a  Crow  as  he  sailed  through  the  sky, 
And  noticed  how  lightly  and  swiftly  he  went, 

Compared  with  a  Turkey  attempting  to  fly, 

Of  this  notable  match  you  will  guess  the  event. 

"  I  say ! "  screamed  the  Gobbler,  as  falling  behind 
He  saw  his  antagonist  certain  to  win, 

"  Look  here  !  did  it  ever  occur  to  your  mind 
You  're  as  black  as  the  deuce  and  as  ugly  as  sin  1 


202      THE  TURKEY  AND  THE  CROW. 

"  Moreover,"  he  cries,  "  I  have  frequently  heard 
You  're  the  odious  tool  of  the  treacherous  Fates ; 

A  wicked,  uncanny,  Plutonian  bird ; 

A  monster  of  evil  whom  every  one  hates ! 

"Away  with  yourself!  it  is  loathsome  to  see 
A  fowl  who  on  carrion  feeds  with  delight ; 

From  birds  who  are  decent  no  wonder  you  flee ; 
The  faster,  the  better  !  —  quick  !  out  of  my  sight ! " 

The  match  being  over,  the  winner  replied  : 

"  You  spoke  of  my  color,  —  that  is  n't  the  thing ; 

The  question,  I  think,  which  we  met  to  decide 
Was  which  of  the  two  is  the  fleeter  of  wing." 

MORAL. 
Some  critics,  aware  they  are  likely  to  fail 

In  argument,  follow  a  similar  plan  ; 
The  works  of  the  author  't  were  vain  to  assail, 

And  so  they  endeavor  to  injure  the  man  ! 


THE    BEE    AND    THE    CUCKOO, 

YRIARTE. 

A  BEE,  whose  dainty  ear  had  grown 
Quite  weary  of  the  monotone 
Which  ever  from  the  Cuckoo's  throat 
Repeated  one  unvarying  note, 
At  last  besought  the  tiresome  bird, 
For  mercy's  sake,  to  change  the  word ; 
"  T  is  '  Cuckoo  !  Cuckoo  I '  all  day  long  ! 
Pray,  cease  your  egotistic  song  : 
It  makes  me  nervous,  sooth  to  say, 
And  quite  unfits  to  work  or  play  !  " 
"You  call  my  song  monotonous? 
Well,  since  you  choose  to  make  a  fuss 
About  my  singing,  tell  me  why 
(Exclaimed  the  Cuckoo,  in  reply) 


204  THE  BEE  AND  THE  CUCKOO. 

Your  honey-cells  you  always  frame 

Alike,  —  in  size  and  shape  the  same  1 

If  /  'ra  monotonous,  —  confess 

The  fault  you  find  is  yours  no  less  ! " 

"  Nay  ! "  said  the  Bee,  "  a  thing  of  use 

Has  in  its  worth  a  fair  excuse 

For  many  a  fault  that  else  would  be 

A  hateful  thing  to  hear  or  see ; 

While  arts  designed  to  please  the  taste 

With  varied  beauties  must  be  graced; 

And,  lacking  these,  they  serve  alone 

To  pain  us,  —  like  your  '  Cuckoo '  tone  ! " 


THE  SILKWORM  AND   THE  CATERPILLAR. 

YRIARTE. 

ONCE  on  a  time  —  if  tales  are  true  — 

Among  the  animals  a  movement 
Was  smarted  by  the  foremost  few 

To  aid  their  mutual  improvement  j 

A  scheme  was  planned  —  whate'er  the  name  — 
To  mend  their  physical  condition ; 

And  in  its  nature  much  the  same 
As  our  "  Industrial  Exposition." 

To  this  the  tribes  of  every  sort 

And  element  —  fur,  fin,  and  feather  — 

In  friendly  rivalry  resort, 

And  their  inventions  bring  together. 


206  THE  SILKWORM  AND  CATERPILLAR. 

Among  a  hundred  useful  things, 

And  many  more  designed  for  winning 

^Esthetic  praise,  the  Silkivorm  brings 

A  knot  of  thread  of  home-made  spinning ; 

A  silk  cocoon  !  —  how  soft  and  bright ! 

All  eyes  are  glistening  with  pleasure  ; 
How  charming  to  the  touch  and  sight ! 

And  then,  for  fabrics,  what  a  treasure  ! 

The  very  Mole  is  not  so  blind 

But  she  can  see  the  thing  is  pretty ; 

And  "  Premium  First "  declares  the  mind 
Of  the  unanimous  "  Committee  !  " 

At  last  a  croaking  voice  is  heard ; 

The  Caterpillar  s,  in  dissension ; 
"  Cocoons  !  —  a  trifle  —  on  my  word  ! 

And  then  they  're  not  a  new  invention  ! " 

The  beasts,  amazed,  with  one  accord 

Cried,  "  Who  is  this,  whose  pert  decision 

Would  overrule  our  grave  award, 

And  treat  our  judgment  with  derision  ! " 


THE  SILKWORM  AND  CATERPILLAR.  207 

"  I  see  !  "  said  Reynard  (cunning  elf!) 

"'T  is  Mr.  Caterpillar,  surely  ! 
The  fellow  makes  cocoons  himself, 

And  thinks  all  others  spin  as  poorly  ! " 

MORAL. 
When  critics  (would-be  authors  once) 

"Would  rob  true  Genius  of  her  glory, 
One  sees  in  each  detracting  dunce 

The  Caterpillar  of  my  story  ! 


THE    MONKEY-SHOWMAN. 

YBIARTE. 

A  MONKEY  who,  by  many  a  prank, 
Had  served  a  strolling  mountebank, 
And  long  had  sought,  with  curious  eye, 
The  secret  of  his  arts  to  spy, 
Grew  so  inflated  with  conceit, 
He  swore  that  there  was  not  a  feat 
His  master  did,  to  charm  the  crowd, 
But  he  could  do,  —  were  he  allowed 
To  show  his  skill.     So,  on  a  day 
When  Mister  Showman  was  away, 
And  Jocko  chanced  to  stay  at  home, 
He  summoned  all  his  friends  to  come 
And  note  how  surely  he  would  raise 
The  customary  shouts  of  praise. 


THE  MONKEY-SHOWMAN.  209 

He  made  his  bow,  and  straight  began 
To  play  the  "  India-Rubber  man," 
Who  in  contorted  shapes  appears, 
And  stands  —  at  last  —  upon  his  ears  ! 
Next,  dances  on  the  swinging  wire ; 
Then,  as  applauding  shouts  inspire 
To  bolder  deeds,  he  mounts  with  ease 
And  safely  braves  the  high  trapeze ; 
Then  takes  a  musket,  and  with  skill 
Performs  the  Prussian  soldier's  drill ; 
At  last  —  as  was  his  master's  wray, 
To  close  the  wonders  of  the  day  — 
He  brings  the  "  Magic  Lantern  "  out, 
Darkens  the  room,  and  talks  about 
The  curious  things  that  on  the  screen 
By  watchful  eyes  will  now  be  seen ; 
Then  moves  the  plates  of  painted  glass 
From  side  to  side,  and  as  they  pass, 
Announces  in  a  pompous  speech 
The  name  and  character  of  each 
Delightful  scene  that  greets  their  eyes  ! 

What  can  it  mean  1  —  no  cheers  arise  ! 
A  storm  of  hisses  come  instead, 
So  fierce  the  frightened  monkey  fled, 


210  THE  MONKEY-SHOWMAN. 

And,  having  reached  a  safer  place, 
Was  told  the  cause  of  his  disgrace  ; 
To  wit,  that,  while  all  else  was  right, 
His  "  Magic  Lantern  "  had  no  light ! 

MORAL. 

How  bootless  are  the  author's  pains 
Who  lacks  illuminating  brains  ! 


THE    OIL-MERCHANT'S    ASS. 


YRIARTE. 


AN  Ass,  whose  customary  toil 

Was  bearing  heavy  sacks  of  oil 

(The  kind  which  often  serves,  at  night, 

Our  houses,  shops,  and  streets  to  light), 

His  labor  over  for  the  day, 

Straight  to  his  stable  took  his  way ; 

But,  as  he  sought  to  enter  there, 

The  groping  donkey,  unaware, 

Against  the  door-hasp  hit  his  nose ; 

Whereat  his  indignation  rose 

To  such  a  pitch,  he  roundly  swore, 

(As  many  an  ass  has  done  before  !) 

And  thus,  in  wrath,  expressed  his  mind : 

"  By  Jove !  one  might  as  well  be  blind, 


212  THE  OIL-MERCHANT'S  ASS. 

As  break  his  noddle  in  the  dark 
For  want  of  light !     A  single  spark 
Had  saved  my  skin  ;  but  not  a  ray 
My  master  gives  to  light  my  way. 
I,  who  for  others  daily  toil, 
And  fill  a  thousand  lamps  with  oil, 
For  lack  of  one  —  so  justice  goes !  — 
Against  the  door  must  break  my  nose  ! " 

MORAL. 

The  miser,  who,  to  gather  pelf 
For  thankless  heirs,  defrauds  himself; 
The  ignoramus,  proud  to  show 
His  gilded  volumes  all  a-row,  — 
Such  men  as  these  may  we  not  class 
(Poor  donkeys !)  with  the  Oilman's  Ass  1 


THE    MONKEY-TOURIST. 

YRIARTE. 

A  MONKEY  clad  in  cloth-of-gold 
(So  in  the  proverb  we  are  told) 
Will  be  a  Monkey  still.     The  aim 
Of  this  new  fable  is  the  same ; 
Pray,  listen  while  I  tell  in  rhyme 
The  tale  how,  once  upon  a  time, 
A  Monkey,  drest  in  garments  bright, 
With  gaudy  colors  such  as  might 
Become  a  Harlequin,  set  out  — 
To  show  her  finery,  no  doubt  — 
Upon  her  travels.     In  what  way, 
By  ship  or  coach,  I  cannot  say ; 
'T  is  only  known  her  journey  ran 
As  far  abroad  as  Tetuan  : 


214  THE  MONKEY-TOURIST. 

A  country  —  as  I  understand  — • 

On  maps  set  down  as  "  Monkey-land  "  ; 

And  widely  famous  as  the  place 

Where  most  abound  the  simian  race, 

And  where,  one  scarcely  needs  to  add, 

The  chattering  tribes  are  simply  clad 

In  their  own  skins,  and  know  no  more 

Of  dress  than  Mother  Eve,  before 

She  ate  of  the  forbidden  fruit, 

And  donned,  for  shame,  her  fig-leaf  suit. 

Here  • —  as  the  reader  may  suppose  — 
Our  lady-tourist  proudly  shows, 
With  many  a  change,  her  gay  attire, 
Which  all  the  natives  much  admire ; 
And  think  the  wearer  must  possess 
A  mind  as  brilliant  as  her  dress, 
And,  thereupon,  the  stranger  made 
Their  leader  in  a  coming  raid 
For  forage,  in  the  country  round, 
Where  monkey -pro  vender  was  found. 

Alas,  the  day !  her  clothing  proved 
An  obstacle  where'er  she  moved ; 
And  when  the  weary  day  was  done, 
Her  gaudy  garments,  —  every  one,  — 


THE  MONKEY-TOURIST.  215 

That  in  the  morning  looked  so  fine, 

Were  strewn  in  rags  along  the  line 

Through  which  the  expedition  led  ; 

And  she,  worn  out  and  nearly  dead, 

At  night  was  but  the  scoff  and  scorn 

Of  those  who  hailed  her  "  queen  "  at  morn  ! 

MORAL. 

A  thousand  instances  confess 
That  judging  people  by  their  dress, 
As  bright  or  brave,  is  a  mistake 
That  men  as  well  as  monkeys  make ! 


TRANSLATIONS  AND  PARAPHRASES. 


THE    ORIGIN    OF    LOVE. 

AN  ALLEGORY  FROM  THE  GREEK  OF  PLATO. 
I. 

WHEN  Beauty  was  born,  a  magnificent  fete 
Was  ordered  to  crown  the  auspicious  event ; 

And  to  all  the  Olympians,  little  and  great, 
And  many  besides,  invitations  were  sent. 

ii. 
In  the  various  throng  who  attended  the  rout, 

Was  Plenty  (of  Prudence  the  favorite  son), 
A  rosy-cheeked  god,  who  went  strolling  about 

In  the  garden  of  Jove,  when  the  banquet  was  done. 

in. 

Here,  falling  asleep  at  the  close  of  the  day, 
Miss  Poverty  saw  him,  —  a  mendicant  maid, 


220  TPIE  ORIGIN  OF  LOVE. 

Who  chanced  at  the  time  to  be  passing  that  way, 
And  entered  the  garden  to  follow  her  trade. 

IV. 

How  the  damsel,  at  sight,  fell  in  love  with  the  youth, 
It  is  easy  to  guess ;  though  I  never  could  learn, 

As  touching  another  more  wonderful  truth, 
How  she  managed  to  waken  his  love  in  return. 

v. 

But  so  it  befell ;  and  the  marriage  came  off 
In  a  manner  not  quite  the  conventional  thing ; 

And  Virtue  will  scold,  and  Propriety  scoff 
When  couples  forget  the  connubial  ring. 

VI. 

The  union  occasioned  no  little  surprise ; 

And  gossip,  of  course,  was  exceedingly  free 
With  merry  remark  and  sarcastic  surmise 

As  to  "  what  in  creation  the  offspring  would  be." 

VII. 

But  Time,  the  Expositor,  settled  the  doubt 
To  the  perfect  content  of  the  people  above ; 


THE  ORIGIN  OF  LOVE.  221 

One  sunshiny  morning  the  secret  was  out ; 

The  baby  was  born,  and  who  was  it  but  Love  I 

VIII. 

As  the  urchin  grew  up,  it  was  plain  to  be  seen 
He  shared  all  the  traits  both  of  mother  and  sire  : 

A  singular  mixture  of  noble  and  mean  ; 
A  deal  to  regret,  with  as  much  to  admire. 

IX. 

As  the  grandson  of  Prudence,  the  younker  displayed 
A  turn  for  intrigue  and  a  masterful  mind  ; 

While,  as  Poverty's  son,  he  as  clearly  betrayed 
A  nature  to  fawning  and  begging  inclined. 


By  his  sire  he  is  courtly,  voluptuous,  proud ; 

Abundant  in  hope  and  ambitious  in  aim. 
By  his  mother,  submissive  and  easily  cowed ; 

Suspicious,  mendicious,  and  fearful  of  blame. 


THE   TRAVELLER  AND   THE   STATUE. 
A  DIALOGUE. 

FROM   THE    GREEK   OF   POSIDIPPUS. 
SCENE. 

A  MARKET-PLACE  in  Athens,  where  are  seen 

Statues  of  gods  and  goddesses,  serene 

In  marble  majesty.     Among  the  rest, 

A  group  wherein  the  sculptor  has  exprest 

Some  tale,  or  moral  homily,  where  these 

Symbolic  shapes  in  stone  the  observer  sees  : 

A  human  figure  resting  on  a  wheel ; 

With  winged  feet ;  while  flowing  locks  conceal 

The  eyes  ;  and  yet  (to  make  the  gazer  stare  !) 

The  head,  behind,  shows  not  a  tuft  of  hair  ! 

Hard  by,  observe,  another  figure  stands,  — 

A  maid,  who  seems  to  weep  and  wring  her  hands. 

Enter  a  Traveller  who,  gazing,  seeks 

The  Statue's  meaning.  Thus,  at  length,  he  speaks  : 


THE  TEAVELLER  AND  THE  STATUE.  223 

TRAVELLER. 

Tell  me,  0  Image  !  by  what  sculptor's  grace 
Of  wondrous  art  thou  standest  in  this  place  1 

STATUE. 

Of  Phidias  thou  hast  heard ;  whose  magic  hand 
Can  re-create  the  gods.     See  !  where  they  stand, 
Jove,  Juno,  and  Minerva  !     He  alone 
Could  place  me  here  —  a  homily  in  stone  — 
Among  the  immortals.     Yet  no  god  am  I, 
Although  I  claim  close  kindred  with  the  sky  ; 
My  name,  I  hear,  through  all  the  world  has  flown ; 
As  Opportunity  to  mortals  I  am  known. 

TRAVELLER. 

Tell  me,  0  Image  !  what  the  wheel  may  mean, 
On  which,  as  a  support,  thou  seemest  to  lean. 

STATUE. 

The  wheel  thou  seest,  if  thou  dost  rightly  read 
The  pregnant  sign,  denotes  my  rapid  speed. 

TRAVELLER. 

And  on  thy  feet  a  pair  of  wings  are  wrought ; 
Tell  me  of  these  the  cunning  sculptor's  thought. 


224  THE  TRAVELLER  AND  THE  STATUE. 

STATUE. 

From  those  my  brief  abiding  thou  may'st  learn ; 
Neglected  once,  I  nevermore  return. 

TRAVELLER. 

And  why  those  flowing  locks  that  hide  thine  eyes  1 

STATUE. 
Because  I  'm  seldom  seen  save  in  disguise. 

TRAVELLER. 

But  why  no  hair  behind  1  —  tell  me,  I  pray  ! 

STATUE. 
That  none  may  seize  me  as  I  flee  away  ! 

TRAVELLER. 

And  who  is  she  behind,  —  so  sad  of  mien  ? 

STATUE. 

Repentance  is  her  name  ;  still  is  she  seen 
To  follow  him,  the  wretch,  who  weakly  fails 
To  seize  me  when  the  timely  hour  avails 
For  noble  action.     Thus  she  serves  to  teach, 
"  Be  swift  to  seize  the  good  within  thy  reach, 
Lest  it  be  lost  forever  ! "     Ask  no  more  ! 
E'en  while  I  speak,  away  —  away  I  soar  ! 


THE    KING'S    GOBLET. 

PARAPHRASED    FROM   THE    GERMAN    OF   SCHILLER. 
I. 

"  Ho  !  every  gallant  knight  and  squire ; 

Attend  !  "  exclaimed  the  king ; 
"  This  Golden  Goblet  shall  be  his, 

Who  from  this  rock  will  spring, 
And  from  the  dark  abyss  below 

The  cup  to  me  will  bring  ! " 

ii. 

And  at  the  word,  from  where  he  stood 

Upon  the  rocky  steep, 
He  cast  the  Golden  Goblet  down 

Beneath  the  ocean  deep  ; 
Far  down  into  the  black  abyss 

Where  roaring  eddies  sweep. 

10*  o 


226  THE  KING'S  GOBLET. 

III. 

And  thrice  the  king  to  all  his  men 

The  proclamation  made ; 
But  all  were  mute  :  nor  knight  nor  squire 

The  fearful  feat  essayed  ; 
To  follow  where  the  cup  went  down, 

The  boldest  were  afraid. 

IV. 

Now  while  in  silence  round  the  king 

They  stood  in  grim  array, 
Up  came  a  page  of  handsome  mien, 

A  gallant  youth  and  gay  ; 
And  straight  he  took  his  girdle  off, 

And  cast  his  cloak  away. 

v. 

And  while  they  praised  his  form  and  face, 
And  marvelled  what  he  meant, 

Far  out  upon  the  dizzy  cliff 
The  gallant  stripling  went ; 

And  there  a  long  and  steady  gaze 
Into  the  deep  he  sent. 


THE  KING'S  GOBLET.  227 

VI. 

A  whispered  prayer,  and  down  he  leaps 

From  off  the  giddy  height, 
Into  the  foaming  flood  below, 

Where  all  is  black  as  night ! 
(A  hundred  shouts  went  up  to  Heaven) 

And  he  was  lost  to  sight ! 

VII. 

Then  spake  the  bravest  knight  of  all 

Who  saw  that  fearful  thing, 
"If  thus  your  Gracious  Majesty 

His  jewelled  crown  should  fling, 
Pardie  !  I  would  not  seek  it  there, 

To  wear  it  as  a  king  ! 

VIII. 

"  Alas  !  that  one  so  young  and  fair 

Should  find  a  watery  grave  ; 
In  vain  were  mortal  succor  now 

The  gallant  boy  to  save  ! " 
But  see  !  —  an  arm  is  gleaming  forth 

Above  the  foaming  wave  ! 


THE  KING'S  GOBLET. 

IX. 

'T  is  he  !  see  how  his  straining  arms 

Obey  his  will's  command  ; 
One  struggle  more,  —  the  boy  is  saved  ! 

His  foot  is  on  the  land ! 
And  now  he  bows  before  the  king, 

The  goblet  in  his  hand  ! 

x. 

"  Here,  daughter !  fill  the  cup  with  wine  !  " 

The  king  exclaimed  aloud  ; 
Whereat  a  damsel,  young  and  fair, 

In  filial  duty  bowed  ; 
And  soon  returned  the  brimming  cup, 

Before  the  smiling  crowd. 

XI. 

"  Long  live  your  gracious  Majesty  ! " 

He  said,  and  drank  the  wine ; 
"  And  may  no  mortal  ever  dare 

A  deed  so  dread  as  mine ; 
Nor  brave  the  monsters  that  I  saw 

Beneath  the  foamy  brine  ! 


THE  KING'S  GOBLET.  229 

XII. 

"  Ah,  me  !  to  think  of  all  I  saw ; 

It  fills  me  now  with  dread  ! 
The  horrid  sharks  and  dragons  huge 

That  in  the  sea  are  bred ; 
And  serpents  vast  that  coil  and  crawl 

Within  their  slimy  bed. 

XIII. 

"  The  goblet  hung  upon  a  crag 

Far  down  as  I  could  dive ; 
I  know  not  how  I  got  me  thence, 

Though  fiercely  I  did  strive ; 
But  God  is  good,  and  heard  my  prayer, 

And  here  I  stand  alive  !  " 

XIV. 

"  The  cup  is  thine  !  "  the  monarch  said  ; 

"  And  thou  hast  earned  it  dear ; 
But  thou  shalt  have  this  costly  ring, 

(A  diamond  large  and  clear  !) 
To  dive  again,  and  further  bring 

What  thou  shalt  see  and  hear  ! " 


230  THE  KING'S  GOBLET. 

XV. 

"  Nay,  father  ! "  —  thus  the  maiden  spoke, 

"  This  cruel  play  forbear ; 
And  let  some  hardy  knight  of  thine 

The  page's  honor  share  ; 
Already  has  the  boy  achieved 

What  not  a  man  did  dare  ! " 

XVI. 

'T  was  then  the  monarch  seized  the  cup 

And  threw  it  in  the  sea ; 
"Go  !  fetch  it  up  !  "  he  cried,  "  and  thou 

A  knight  of  mine  shall  be  ; 
And  this  my  daughter,  weeping  here, 

I  '11  make  her  wife  to  thee  ! " 

XVII. 

One  glance  upon  the  beauteous  maid ; 

One  look  of  inward  pain  \ 
One  supplicating  prayer  to  Heaven, 

And  down  he  dives  again, 
To  follow  where  the  goblet  fell, 

Beneath  the  raging  main  ! 


THE  KING'S  GOBLET.  231 

XVIII. 

Long  —  long  they  gaze  with  anxious  looks ; 

In  vain  their  eyes  explore 
The  dashing  waves  beneath  the  rock, 

Where  sullen  breakers  roar  • 
Alack,  alack,  —  he  comes  not  back  ! 

The  boy  is  seen  no  more ! 


THE    GOLDSMITH'S    DAUGHTER, 

FKOM  THE  GERMAN  OP  UHLAND. 
I. 

UP  spoke  the  Goldsmith  proudly 

Unto  his  daughter  fair  : 
"  Ah  !  here  are  pearls  and  diamonds, 

And  rubies  rich  and  rare ; 
But  none  with  thee,  my  Helen, 

In  beauty  can  compare  ! " 

ii. 
In  came  a  knight  so  gayly, 

A  youth  of  noble  mien ; 
With  "  I  would  have  a  garland, 

The  finest  e'er  was  seen  : 
Spare  neither  cost  nor  labor ; 

T  is  for  my  bridal  queen." 


THE  GOLDSMITH'S  DAUGHTER.  233 

in. 

The  work  is  done  ;  and  Helen 

Cried,  "  Lucky  bride  is  she 
Who  wears  this  splendid  garland  ! 

Ah  !  would  he  give  to  me 
A  simple  wreath  of  roses, 

How  happy  I  should  be  ! " 

IV. 

"  'T  is  well,"  the  knight  made  answer, 

When  he  the  wreath  had  seen ; 
"  Now  make  a  ring  with  diamonds 

And  of  the  purest  sheen  : 
Spare  neither  cost  nor  labor ; 

'T  is  for  my  bridal  queen." 

v. 

The  work  is  done ;  and  Helen 

Cried,  "  Lucky  bride  is  she 
Who  wears  this  blazing  circlet ! 

Ah  !  would  he  give  to  me 
One  of  his  golden  tresses, 

How  happy  I  should  be  !  " 


234  THE  GOLDSMITH'S  DAUGHTER. 

VI. 

"  'T  is  well,"  the  knight  made  answer ; 

Then  to  the  maid  he  cried, 
"  I  fain  would  have  these  jewels 

On  thee,  a  moment,  tried ; 
That  I  may  judge  the  surer 

If  they  become  my  bride." 

VII. 

And  soon  her  blushing  forehead 
Was  with  the  garland  graced ; 

And  then  upon  her  finger 
The  knight,  in  loving  haste, 

The  ring  of  gold  and  diamonds 
In  merry  triumph  placed. 

VIII. 

"Ah!  Helen,  dearest  Helen  !" 

The  happy  lover  cried  ; 
"  For  thee  they  were  intended, 

My  darling  and  my  pride  ! 

And  by  these  jeweled  tokens 
• 

I  take  thee  for  my  bride  ! " 


THE    GOOD    DOG    OF    BRETT&. 

A   GERMAN    LEGEND. 
I. 

SHOULD  you  e'er  go  to  Brette,  be  sure  you  don't  fail 

To  look  at  the  dog  on  the  old  city  gate ; 
A  poodle  in  marble,  with  never  a  tail 

Save  the  piteous  one  which  the  people  relate 
Of  a  dog  who  was  wont,  in  the  cleverest  way, 

To  carry  a  basket  whereon  you  might  find, 
In  capital  letters  as  plain  as  the  day, 

This  plaintive  petition,  "  Remember  the  Blind  ! " 

ii. 
And  thus  through  the  city  he  went,  it  is  said, 

Soliciting  food  that  his  owner  might  live ; 
And  never  himself,  till  his  master  was  fed, 

Touched  a  morsel  of  aught  that  the  people  might  give; 


236  THE  GOOD  DOG  OF  BRETTE. 

Such  a  good  little  dog,  of  such  talents  possessed, 
In  Brette,  be  sure,  had  an  excellent  name ; 

And  every  one  hastened  to  honor  his  quest, 

And  treat  him  with  kindness,  wherever  he  came. 

in. 
But  once,  on  a  Friday  ft  is  ever,  they  say, 

A  day  when  misfortune  is  aptest  to  fall), 
As  the  dog  went  his  round,  in  the  usual  way, 

He  came  to  a  butcher  who  mocked  at  his  call, 
"  What !  flesh  on  a  fast  day  !  —  you  heathenish  cur  ! 

Egad  !  you  shall  have  it !  —  a  pice  bit  of  meat ! " 
And,  cutting  his  tail  off,  cried,  "Off  with  you,  sir  ! 

Take  that,  if  you  please,  for  your  master  to  eat !  " 

IV. 

He  went  to  his  home,  and  his  basket  set  down  ; 

So  stricken  with  grief,  and  so  hurt  in  his  pride, 
That  he  never  again  showed  his  face  in  the  town, 

But,  moaning  in  misery,  sickened  and  died. 
And  all  through  the  city  the  story  was  told 

Of  the  beggar  lamenting  the  loss  of  his  mate ; 
And  all  through  the  city  the  young  and  the  old  — 

Men,  women,  and  children  —  lamented  his  fate. 


THE  GOOD  DOG  OF  BRETTE.  237 

V. 

And  now  yon  may  see  on  the  old  city  gate 

His  effigy  standing  in  marble  to-day ; 
Whereof  the  good  people  to  strangers  relate 

The  piteous  story  I  've  told  in  my  lay  ; 
And  the  origin,  hence,  you  will  readily  learn 

Of  the  saying,  repeated  in  country  and  city, 
When  kindness  receives  an  ungrateful  return, 

"  He  fares  —  the  poor  man  !  —  like  the  poodle  of 
Brette ! " 


THIRTEEN    AT    TABLE. 

STRANGER. 
I. 

I  SPILT  the  salt,  one  day,  —  and,  worse, 
"  Thirteen  at  table  !     Sure,  some  curse 
Is  in  the  omens !     Such  the  way 
That  Death  gives  warning,  —  so  they  say." 
Scarce  had  I  spoken,  when  a  sprite, 
Young,  handsome,  joyous,  met  my  sight ; 

Whereat  I  cried,  "  Friends  !  be  of  cheer ! 

I  've  looked  on  Death,  and  do  not  fear ! " 

ii. 

A  gay,  invited  guest  she  seemed ; 
With  fairest  flowers  her  forehead  gleamed ; 
A  rainbow  arched  her  head  around ; 
A  broken  chain  was  on  the  ground ; 


THIRTEEN  AT  TABLE.  239 

And,  sweetly  nestling  on  her  breast, 
A  sleeping  baby  lay  at  rest. 

Fill  up,  my  friends  !  —  no  danger 's  near ; 

1  've  looked  on  Death,  and  do  not  fear  ! 

in. 

"  Why  tremble  ? "  said  the  spirit,  —  "  why  1 
Sister  of  Hope,  Heaven's  daughter  I  ! 
From  weary  necks  I  lift  the  yoke ; 
I  touch  the  slave,  —  his  chain  is  broke ; 
To  man  —  fallen  angel  —  I  restore 
The  seraph  wings  he  had  of  yore  !  " 

"  0  maid  !  "  I  cried,  "  thou  'rt  welcome  here  ! 

I  've  looked  on  Death,  and  do  not  fear  ! " 

IV. 

"  By  me  released  from  carnal  thrall, 
The  soul,  beyond  this  earthly  ball, 
Shall  range  in  yonder  azure  clime, 
In  spacious  fields  and  paths  sublime  ; 
But  here,  oppressed  by  fleshly  woes, 
Ah  !  little  joy  the  spirit  knows  !  " 

A  bumper  to  that  higher  sphere  ! 

I  've  looked  on  Death,  and  do  not  fear ! 


240  THIRTEEN  AT  TABLE. 

V. 

Alas  !  although  I  bid  her  stay, 
The  lovely  vision  flies  away ; 
In  vain  we  mortals  wish  to  shun 
The  rest  that  waits  our  journey  done ; 
Life  is  a  ship,  mere  sailors  we ; 
And  tide  and  wind  are  fair  and  free. 

Thirteen  !     Who  cares  1     God's  smile  is  here ; 

I  've  looked  on  Death,  and  do  not  fear ! 


MY    BALD    HEAD. 

(Mes  cheveux.) 

B^RANGER. 


GOOD  friends  !  pray  listen,  if  you  please, 

To  Pleasure's  licensed  preacher ; 
Hold  fast  to  Liberty  and  Ease ; 

So  says  your  reverend  teacher. 
To  laugh  at  Care,  be  gay  and  free, 

The  precepts  I  advise  : 
I  'm  bald  because  I  'm  sage,  you  see ; 

So  listen  to  the  wise  ! 

» 
ii. 

Good  friends  !  when  Care  assails  a  man, 

To  vex  his  soul  and  body, 
I  think  it  much  the  wisest  plan 

To  drown  it  —  in  a  toddy  ! 


242  MY  BALD  HEAD. 

Nay,  not  too  much !  —  the  glass  should  be 

Of  very  dainty  size  : 
I  'm  bald  because  I  'm  sage,  you  see ; 

So  listen  to  the  wise  ! 

in. 
Good  friends !  these  hints  will  stand  the  test, 

And  should  n't  be  neglected  ; 
But  what 's  the  good  of  all  the  rest, 

If  Beauty  is  rejected  1 
Young  Love,  true  Love,  must  ever  be 

The  richest  earthly  prize  : 
I  'm  bald  because  I  'm  sage,  you  see  ; 

So  listen  to  the  wise  ! 

IV. 

Good  friends  !  believe  me,  only  so 

We  save  Life's  truest  treasures ; 
By  just  condensing,  as  they  flow, 

Youth's  evanescent  pleasures. 
My  sermon  's  done  ;  who  lists  to  me 

The  power  of  Fate  defies  : 
I  'm  bald  because  I  'm  sage,  you  see ; 

So  listen  to  the  wise  ! 


GIRLS!    PASS    ALONG! 

(Passez,  jeunes  filles.) 

BERANGER. 
I. 

BLESS  me  !  what  a  rosy  row 

Of  girls  at  me  their  glances  throw, 

As  they  gayly  come  and  go, 

The  light  coquettish  throng ! 
Can't  the  darlings  hear  me  say, 
"  I  have  had  my  youthful  day ; 
Now  I  put  such  things  away  "  ] 

Girls  !  pass  along  ! 

n. 

Ah,  my  Zoe  !  pray  desist ! 
Sooth,  I  care  not  to  be  kissed ; 
Ask  your  mother  if  I  list 
To  Cupid's  siren  song. 


244  GIRLS  !  PASS  ALONG  ! 

She  —  but  that  is  entre  nous  — 
Knows  what  Love  and  I  can  do ; 
Her  advice  you  'd  best  pursue,  — 
Girls  !  pass  along  ! 

in. 

Laura  !  you  would  hardly  guess 
How  your  grandam  used  to  press 
Lips  of  mine  —  well  —  I  confess  — 

We  did  n't  think  it  wrong ; 
Look  !  she  's  coming !     Tempt  me  not 
In  gay  saloon  or  shady  grot ; 
A  jealous  eye  the  dame  has  got,  — 

Girls  !  pass  along ! 

IV. 

You  smiling  too  !  you  naughty  Rose  ! 

I  wonder  now  if  you  suppose 

I  'm  not  aware  what  sort  of  beaux 

Around  your  beauty  throng  1 
I  know  the  husband-hunting  crew, 
And  all  the  pretty  tricks  they  do ; 
I  'm  old,  —  but  much  too  young  for  you ! 

Girls  !  pass  along  ! 


GIRLS  !  PASS  ALONG  !  245 

V. 

Away,  away !  you  madcaps !  —  fly  ! 
Your  roguish  arts  why  will  you  try 
To  bind  a  graybeard  —  such  as  I  — 

With  Cupid's  slender  thong  ] 
Yet,  like  a  powder  magazine, 
My  heart  from  flying  sparks  I  screen, 
The  sparks  that  shoot  from  wanton  een  — 

Girls  !  pass  along  ! 


MUCH    LOVE. 
(" Beaucoup  d?  Amour") 

B^RANGER. 

I. 

I  KNOW  by  sages  we  are  told 

To  reckon  riches  vile  ; 
I  'm  not  a  sage,  and  so  of  gold 

I  'd  like  a  pretty  pile. 
It  is  not  avarice ;  0  no  ! 
For  Sophie's  sake  I  'd  have  it  so 
0,  't  is,  be  sure, 
Beaucoup  d' amour  ; 
Only  love,  — much  love  I 

ii. 

And  I  would  be  a  bard  divine, 
Her  praises  to  prolong ; 


MUCH  LOVE.  247 

And  link  my  Sophie's  name  with  mine, 

In  never-dying  song ; 
Yet  if  I  thus  aspire  to  claim 
The  poet's  laurel  wreath  of  fame, 

0,  't  is,  be  sure, 

Beaucoup  d  'amour  ; 
Only  love,  —  much  love  ! 

in. 
And  I  would  be  a  sceptred  king, 

That  Sophie  might  be  seen 
With  all  that  royalty  could  bring 

To  grace  my  darling  queen. 
Ambition  1     No ;  for  her  alone 
I  'd  wish  to  sit  upon  a  throne  : 
0,  't  is,  be  sure, 
Beaucoup  &  amour  ; 
Only  love,  —  much  love  ! 

IV. 

Yet  why,  0  why,  would  I  possess 

These  shining  gifts  of  Fate  1 
For  love  has  more  of  happiness 

Than  fortune,  fame,  or  state  : 


248  MUCH  LOVE. 

So  let  them  go ;  I  '11  not  repine ; 

The  sweetest  treasure  still  is  mine  : 
0,  't  is,  be  sure, 
Beaucoup  d' amour  ; 

Only  love,  —  much  love  ! 


THE    PUPPETS. 

STRANGER. 

L 

OUR  life  is  but  a  puppet  show ; 

Men,  mere  mechanic  factors ; 
And  rich  and  poor  and  high  and  low, 

Involuntary  actors. 
Clowns,  courtiers,  statesmen,  serfs,  and  kings, 

The  wicked  and  the  pious,  — 
We  all  are  worked  by  secret  springs, 

And  move  as  others  ply  us. 

n. 
And  yet,  vain  man  !  he  deems  his  course 

Is  by  himself  decided  ; 
Because  he  cannot  see  the  force 

By  which  his  mind  is  guided. 


250  THE  PUPPETS. 

But  soon  or  later  he  will  see 
That  like  his  wooden  brothers 

He  's  ever  been,  and  still  must  be, 
A  puppet,  ruled  by  others. 

in. 
Just  mark  the  maid  of  seventeen, 

When  first  the  gentle  dreamer, 
Unconscious  what  the  mood  may  mean, 

Feels  love's  delicious  tremor,  — 
What  secret  power,  unknown  before, 

Can  thus  so  sweetly  sway  her  1 
She 's  but  a  puppet,  nothing  more,  — 

And  Cupid  is  the  player  ! 

IV. 

Observe  yon  alderman  so  grand, 

How  shrewdly  and  how  neatly 
His  wife  (the  young  coquette  !)  has  planned 

To  rule  the  man  completely  ! 
Perhaps  a  spark  of  jealous  fire 

Within  the  puppet  lingers, 
I  only  know  the  moving  wire 

Is  held  in  madam's  fingers  ! 


THE  TUPPETS.  251 

V. 
And  so  it  is  -with  all  mankind, 

The  womankind  befool  us ; 
We  're  merely  puppets,  deaf  and  blind, 

And  hers  the  art  to  rule  us ; 
We  laugh  and  cry  and  work  and  play 

According  to  her  fancies  ; 
Whate'er  the  lady's  whim  may  say, 

Just  so  the  puppet  dances  ! 


THE    PRIDE    OF    BEAUTY. 

BERANGER. 

A  GALLANT  youth,  whose  lady-love  possessed 
The  rarest  charms  to  fire  the  manly  breast, 
Was  so  enamored  of  the  beauteous  maid, 
That  to  the  Powers  above  —  below  • —  he  prayed, 
Eight  fervently,  to  make  her  beauty  less ; 
Nay,  turn  it,  if  they  would,  to  ugliness ; 
That  so  it  might  be  shown  his  constant  flame, 
Despite  the  change,  would  glow  for  her  the  same. 

This  strange  request  no  sooner  Satan  heard, 
Than,  quick  as  thought,  he  took  him  at  his  word, 
And,  by  such  arts  as  only  Satan  knows, 
The  deed  was  done  !  —  away  her  beauty  goes ! 
And  now  before  her  mirror  see  her  stand, 
No  more  "  the  fairest  lady  in  the  land," 


THE  PRIDE  OF  BEAUTY.  253 

But  such  a  Hecate,  such  a  very  fright, 

She  shrieked  aloud,  and  shuddered  at  the  sight. 

And  Satan  laughed !     But  still  the  lover  swore 

In  very  sooth  he  loved  her  as  before  ! 

"  0  faithful  soul !  "  she  said ;  but  little  less 

The  woman  mourned  her  vanished  loveliness. 

"  My  beauty  gone  !  "  the  weeping  damsel  cried  ; 

"  To  come  to  this  !     Ah,  would  that  I  had  died  ! " 

In  short,  she  wept  at  such  a  frantic  rate, 
The  very  Fiend  took  pity  on  her  fate, 
And  soon  was  fain  her  beauty  to  restore. 
And  now  behold  her  at  her  glass  once  more, 
Handsome  as  Helen  when,  with  radiant  charms, 
She  summoned  Paris  to  her  waiting  arms  : 
More  beautiful,  indeed,  than  in  the  hour 
She  knew  the  demon's  disenchanting  power; 
For,  while  the  Fiend  called  back  her  former  face, 
He  slyly  added  many  a  winning  grace. 
"And  now,"  she  said,  "I  'm  sure  you  love  me  more, 
Ay,  twice  as  much  as  e'er  you  did  before." 
"  Nay,"  said  the  lover,  "  as  I  loved  no  less 
When  once  I  saw  your  beauty  in  distress,  — 
No  more,  my  sweet,  this  added  grace  may  claim 
Than  my  whole  heart,  —  I  love  you  but  the  same  ! ' 


254  THE  PRIDE  OF  BEAUTY. 

"  Adieu  ! "  she  said ;  "  to  me  Jt  is  very  clear 
Heaven  sends  us  beauty  but  to  make  us  dear ; 
And  well  I  see  my  love  were  thrown  away 
On  one  so  dull  that  he  can  coolly  say, 
*  Who  cares  —  not  I !  —  how  beautiful  you  be "? 
Handsome  or  homely,  all  is  one  to  me  ! ' " 


LITTLE    PETER    THE    PORTER. 

DE   PERTHES. 

0,  I  AM  Little  Peter, 

Of  faubourg  La  Pucelle ; 
A  carrier  of  water, 

And  messenger,  as  well ; 
To  gain  an  honest  living 

I  've  got  a  clever  head ; 
I  seldom  fill  my  pocket, 

But  then  I  get  my  bread  ! 

I  have  no  land  nor  servants ; 

All  equipage  I  lack  ; 
These  legs,  they  are  my  horses  ; 

My  funds  are  on  my  back. 
I  take  the  good  that 's  going, 

Quite  certain  to  be  fed ; 


256  LITTLE  PETER  THE  PORTER. 

God  wills  us  all  a  living, 
And  so  I  get  my  bread  ! 

Before  some  stately  building 

I  place  my  little  stand  • 
No  Swiss  you  need  to  parley, 

The  master  is  at  hand. 
Up  early  in  the  morning, 

And  late  at  night  to  bed, 
I  call  the  day  a  good  one 

In  which  I  get  my  bread  ! 

There  goes  a  man  of  millions, 

But  what  is  that  to  me  ] 
Who  knows  but  Little  Peter 

Is  happier  than  he  1 
The  rich  man  has  his  troubles, 

I  often  hear  it  said  ; 
He  can  but  eat  his  mutton, 

And  I  —  I  get  my  bread  ! 

I  've  heard  my  worthy  uncle, 
Before  his  sad  decease, 

Declare  no  man  is  wretched 
Whose  stomach  is  at  peace ; 


LITTLE  PETER  THE  PORTER.  257 

And  should  these  fine  days  vanish, 

And  dark  ones  come  instead, 
The  neighbors  love  poor  Peter, 

And  I  shall  get  my  bread ! 


THE    HEN    AND    THE    HONEY-BEE 

FROM    THE    GERMAN    OP    GELLET. 

A  LAZY  Hen,  —  the  story  goes,  — 
Loquacious,  pert,  and  self-conceited, 

Espied  a  Bee  upon  a  rose, 

And  thus  the  busy  insect  greeted  : 

"  Say,  \vhat  's  the  use  of  such  as  you, 
(Excuse  the  freedom  of  a  neighbor  !) 

Who  gad  about,  and  never  do 
A  single  act  of  useful  labor  1 

"  I  Ve  marked  you  well  for  many  a  day, 
In  garden  blooms  and  meadow-clover  ; 

Now  here,  now  there,  in  wanton  play ; 
From  morn  to  night  an  idle  rover. 


THE  HEN  AND  THE   HONEY-BEE.  259 

"  While  I  discreetly  bide  at  home, 
A  faithful  wife,  the  best  of  mothers, 

About  the  fields  you  idly  roam, 

Without  the  least  regard  for  others. 

"  While  I  lay  eggs,  or  hatch  them  out, 
You  seek  the  flowers  most  sweet  and  fragrant, 

And,  sipping  honey,  stroll  about, 

At  best  a  good-for-nothing  vagrant ! " 

"Nay,"  said  the  Bee,  "you  do  me  wrong; 

I  'm  useful  too  ;  perhaps  you  doubt  it, 
Because  —  though  toiling  all  day  long  — 

I  scorn  to  make  a  fuss  about  it ! 

"  While  you,  with  every  egg  that  cheers 
Your  daily  task,  must  stop  and  hammer 

The  news  in  other  people's  ears, 

Till  they  are  deafened  with  the  clamor : 

"Come  now  with  me,  and  see  my  hive, 
And  note  how  folks  may  work  in  quiet ; 

To  useful  arts  much  more  alive 

Than  you  with  all  your  cackling  riot  ! " 


260      THE  HEN  AND  THE  HONEY-BEE. 

L'ENVOI. 
The  Poet,  one  may  plainly  see 

Who  reads  this  fable  at  his  leisure, 
Is  represented  by  the  Bee, 

Who  joins  utility  to  pleasure ; 
While  in  this  self-conceited  Hen 

We  note  the  Poet's  silly  neighbor, 
Who  thinks  the  noisy  "  working-men  " 

Are  doing  all  the  useful  labor  ! 


EPIGRAMS. 

FROM  THE  LATIN  OF  MARTIAL. 

MAIDEN  MANNERS. 
(AD  FLACCFM.) 

"  WHICH  like  you  best,"  my  friend  inquires, 

"  A  maid  extremely  bold  or  shy  1 " 
No  man  of  sense,  I  think,  admires 

A  leering  or  a  lowering  eye. 
For  me,  the  juste  milieu  I  seek ; 

I  fain  would  leave  alone 
The  girl  who  rudely  slaps  my  cheek 

Or  volunteers  her  own  ! 

IN  FAVOR  OF  MAKING  NEW  FRIENDS. 

(AD  FUSCTJM.) 

You,  worthy  man,  whose  noble  life  commends 
Your  generous  heart  and  gives  you  many  friends, 


2G2  EPIGRAMS. 

If  in  your  breast  a  place  there  yet  may  be 

For  one  friend  more,  0,  give  that  place  to  me  ! 

Reject  me  not  because  I  am  not  proved ; 

Till  they  were  known,  not  one  of  all  was  loved  ; 

New  as  I  am,  —  the  trial  fairly  past,  — 

I  '11  prove,  perhaps,  "a  good  old  friend,"  at  last ! 

ON  A  NIGGARDLY  FELLOW. 
(AD  CJSCILANUM.) 

A  wealthy  old  fellow  whose  table  was  bare 

Of  meats  that  were  less  than  a  week  or  two  old, 
One  day,  when  a  friend  was  invited  to  share 

A  remnant  of  mutton  both  scraggy  and  cold, 
Inquired  of  his  guest  how  to  manage  his  ice, 

And  where  should  he  keep  it  1     "  Why,  keep  it,  by 

Jove  ! " 
Retorted  the  friend,  "  since  you  ask  my  advice,  — 

Keep  your  ice  in  your  kitchen  —  shut  up  in  your 
stove  ! " 

ON  A   MISER. 
(AD  CINXAM.) 

If  it  be  true,  as  grave  historians  say, 
That,  just  by  sipping  poison  every  day, 


EPIGRAMS.  263 

King  Mithridates  grew  at  last  to  be 
Quite  poison-proof,  't  is  plain  enough  to  see 
Your  style  of  dining  makes  it  mighty  clear 
Death  by  starvation  you  've  no  cause  to  fear ! 

ON  A  CRITIC. 
(AD  ATJCTUM.) 

A  brother  scribbler  calls  my  verses  wrong 
In  point  of  art ;  small  merit  he  can  see. 

Well,  since  my  readers  like  my  simple  song, 
That,  I  am  sure,  is  quite  enough  for  me ; 

The  man  who  gives  a  public  dinner  looks 

To  please  his  guests,  not  other  people's  cooks  ! 

ON  A  QUIBBLING  SUPPLICANT. 

(DE   MARONE.) 

Marc's  dear  friend  was  sick,  and  like  to  take 

A  trip,  untimely,  o'er  the  Stygian  lake  ; 

So  Maro  vowed,  if  Heaven  would  kindly  spare 

His  crony's  life,  in  answer  to  his  prayer, 

He  'd  build  a  church,  to  show  his  gratitude. 

The  friend  gets  well.     Quoth  Maro,  "  I  conclude, 


264  EPIGRAMS. 

Since  prayers  alone  so  perfectly  succeed, 
Of  building  churches  there  is  little  need  ! " 

ON  A  COXCOMB. 

(IN  EFFRONTEM.) 

Your  nose  and  eyes  your  father  gave,  you  say ; 

Your  mouth,  your  grandsire ;  and  your  mother  meek, 
Your  fine  expression.     Tell  me,  now,  I  pray, 

Where,  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  you  got  your  cheek  ! 

ON  A  QUACK  DOCTOR. 

(IN  MALUM  MEDICUM.) 

Phlebotamus,  a  quack  before, 

Seeks  now  a  soldier's  fame  ; 
A  change  of  title,  —  nothing  more,  — 

His  trade  is  still  the  same  ! 

ON  A  LITIGIOUS  MAN. 

(IN  GAIIGLIANUM.) 

What !  twenty  years  at  law,  my  friend  ! 

Why  did  n't  you  contrive 
To  save  your  skin  and  make  an  end, 

By  getting  beat  in  five  1 


EPIGRAMS.  265 

TO  A  BORROWING  FRIEND. 

(AD   FAUSTINUM.) 

You  say  you  're  sorry  that  you  cannot  pay 
"  That  little  loan  "  you  promised  me  to-day ; 
I  can't  dispute  you,  since,  in  very  sooth, 
What  you  aver  may  be  the  simple  truth ; 
Sorry  or  not,  my  friend,  I  much  incline 
To  think  your  grief  not  half  so  deep  as  mine  ! 

ON  A  SUICIDE. 
(DE  FANNIO.) 

Poor  Fannius,  who  greatly  feared  to  die, 
Embraced  the  enemy  he  fain  would  fly. 
Strange  contradiction,  weary  of  the  strife, 
He  ceased  to  live  from  very  love  of  life ; 
With  his  own  hand  he  stops  his  vital  breath ; 
Madness  extreme  !  —  to  die  for  fear  of  death  ! 

ON  CHEAP  PURCHASING. 
(DE  BASSU.) 

"  See  here  ! "  cries  Bassus,  in  a  brand-new  coat, 
Worth,  at  the  least,  a  fifty-dollar  note ; 


266  EPIGRAMS. 

"  I  got  it  at  a  bargain.     Please  to  guess 

How  much  it  cost.     A  hundred  1     Vastly  less  ! 

There  's  not  one  man  in  twenty  who  can  buy 

A  coat  or  hat  one  half  so  cheap  as  I." 

"  That 's  true,"  quoth  Tom ;  "his  surely  is  the  praise 

Of  buying  mighty  cheap  —  who  never  pays ! " 

ON  A  SPENDTHKIFT. 
(AD  PHILOMUSUM.) 

To  you,  while  yet  he  lived,  your  father  lent 
Two  thousand  pounds  a  month  —  in  folly  spent ; 
Though  large  the  stipend,  each  succeeding  day 
Brought  fresh  demands  to  melt  the  sum  away. 
Now,  all  his  wealth  is  yours  without  his  care ; 
You  're  disinherited  by  being  heir ! 


TO  AN  UGLY  WOMAN   WITH   A  SWEET  VOICE. 
(DE  VETTJLA.) 

When  first  I  met  thee  —  in  the  dark  alone  — 
And  heard  entranced  thy  voice's  dulcet  tone, 
My  heart  was  pierced  with  love's  delicious  pain  ; 
But  when  I  saw  thee,  I  was  well  again  ! 


EPIGKAMS.  267 

THE  TRUTHFUL  PRETENDER. 
(DE  CINNA.) 

Cinna,  who  lives  in  such  a  splendid  style 
That  many  deem  him  rich,  still  wears  a  smile 
Of  mock  humility,  which  says,  "Be  sure, 
Whatever  folks  may  fancy,  I  am  poor." 
Ah  !  vain  pretence  to  cheat  familiar  friends, 
Who  know  full  well  he  is  what  he  pretends  ! 

ON  DINING  WITH  STRANGERS. 

(AD   FABULUM.) 

You  bid  me  dine  with  folks  unknown, 

And  wonder  I  decline ; 
Well,  when  I  choose  to  dine  alone, 

I  stay  at  home  and  dine  ! 

ON  A  RICH  MAN'S  COUNTRY-SEAT. 

(IX    HABEXTEM   AM-ENAS   .EDES.) 

Your  parks  are  unsurpassed  in  noble  trees ; 
A  finer  bath  than  yours  one  seldom  sees ; 
Grand  is  your  colonnade,  and  all  complete 
The  stone  mosaic  underneath  your  feet ; 


2G8  EPIGRAMS. 

Your  steeds  are  fine ;  your  hunting-grounds  are  wide, 
And  gleaming  fountains  spout  on  every  side ; 
Your  drawing-rooms  are  grand ;  there 's  nothing  cheap 
Except  the  places  where  you  eat  and  sleep  ! 
With  all  the  space  and  splendor  you  have  got, 
0,  what  a  charming  mansion  you  have  not ! 

ON  A  POOR  MAN  OF  EXTRAVAGANT  HABITS. 

(AD   CASTOREM.) 

Such  lavish  purchases,  my  giddy  friend, 
To  thoughtful  minds  an  auction-sale  portend ; 
It  needs  no  prophet,  surely,  to  foretell, 
Who  buys  so  much  wrill  soon  have  all  to  sell ! 


NOTE. 

[SEE  PAGE    169.] 

Of  this  and  the  following  Fables  credited  to  Yriarte,  it  is 
proper  to  say  that  they  are  taken  from  French  versions  of 
the  works  of  the  great  Spanish  Fabulist,  and  therefore  make 
no  pretension  of  fidelity  —  whether  of  matter  or  manner  —  to 
the  original  text.  I  take  occasion  of  this  note  to  add,  con 
cerning  other  pieces  in  this  volume,  that,  though  derived  di 
rectly  from  the  Greek,  Koman,  German,  and  French  originals, 
they  are,  for  the  most  part,  —  as  the  scholarly  reader  will  ob 
serve, —not  so  much  translations  as  paraphrases,  wherein  I 
have  endeavored  to  preserve  the  spirit  of  the  author,  while 
consulting  the  exigencies  of  an  English  poem  in  respect  of 
rhyme  and  rhythm  and  general  manner  of  treatment. 


THE   END. 


Cambridge  :  Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  Welch,  Bigelow,  &  Co. 


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